


War Diary 2nd Edition (Worm SI)

by Deadluck



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 27,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17494982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadluck/pseuds/Deadluck
Summary: What happens when you drop a random guy with questionable morality in Earth Bet and give him powers? He tries to find out just how bulletproof various parahumans are. Created with CYOA v5 Gimel





	1. 01

“After rigorous selection, let me be the first to welcome you to Winslow High.”

I shake my head and blink a few times but I still see a blonde middle-aged woman with ‘I would like to speak to your manager’ haircut in front of me. The floodgates open and details about my surroundings pour in. I’m in a chair in office with a dire need of new wallpaper and the only other occupant is sitting behind a desk with a nameplate that reads ‘Principal Dorean Blackwell’. Her fake (how do I know that?) smile wanes a little.

“Is something wrong?” she asks with clearly fake (again-how?) concern.

“Uhm... No, it’s nothing, I just remember something weird.” She obviously doesn't believe me but chooses not to press.

“Then here is the finalized paperwork, everything you need is in these. I suggest coming here before the semester begins so you can familiarize yourself with your office and the building but for now that will be all. I hope that you’re going to have a long career in our faculty.”

She stands up, hands me a stack of papers and we shake hands.

I exit the office and look around confused. Like everybody, I had some strange dreams in my time but this takes the cake. The lucidity and level of detail notwithstanding, why would I dream about the last part of a job interview? Pinching myself doesn’t help so I might as well continue down the rabbit hole. It was a few years behind me but school halls are immediately recognizable and that confounds me even more. School, job, semester, office, me, principal, I haven’t thought this hard since… fuck if I know.

I would like to say that I respond to surprises and unexpected situations pretty well but this is straining my ability to cope. The dream scenario seems more and more incorrect with each passing moment and another option comes to mind. Roofies. But why would someone dump me here after extracting my organs and precious bodily fluids?

Calm thoughts. Calm and rational thoughts. I don’t want to go back and ask someone who clearly doesn’t give a shit so what can I do to clarify my situation? A quick scan of the paperwork at least gives me some information to work with. It’s addressed to Daniel Valenta (well the first name is correct) and the gist of it is that I just accepted a position of Computer Science at Winslow High School in the city of Brockton Bay.

Hmm. Yeah. I see what’s going on. No, actually I don’t but a certain part of my brain is coming up with explanations. Either this is a giant prank and I’m being filmed or… fuck. Staying here is probably not going to help me so I start to move towards the exit.

Close to the front door, I rifle through my pockets for further clues. I discover that I’m wearing a suit. That might be the strangest thing yet. Well, if the option of ‘I-don’t-want-to-say-it’ is true then I guess it would be in poor taste to show up in jeans to this kind of job interview but still. So, what do we have here? One phone which requires further examinations, one set of keys, one pack of tissues and a wallet. The phone and wallet need to wait until I have both hands free but the keys show promise as one of them is clearly a car key.

Where would I find a parking lot around here? Oh yeah, right in front of me. Reaching it I press the central locking button. Faint sound to my left is my reward. Following it I reach a car which is (drumroll) 2009 Chevy Impala. Huh. Well, at least the spare parts are gonna be common.

Putting my stuff on the passenger seat I finally get to properly examine it. Wallet first. Driving license with not my DOB, some dudes photo and current address - potentially useful, credit card and about 200 bucks - very useful. Thus ended the examination. What? That’s it?. Not even a library card or an expired condom packet from 10 years ago? Let’s hope the phone treats me better. It’s looking pristine but kinda old at the same time. Unlocking it with just a slide I stare at the screen.

8.17.2009. The wonders never cease. WHAT TYPE OF GODDAMNED MONTH IS 17? After everything, this, this right here is the last GODDAMNED STRAW! ...I confess that I may have overreacted just a little bit as a realization of certain facts sets in. English. Chevrolet. Dollars. Brocton Fucking Bay. I’m in the USA, aren't I? You know what, no, my reaction was completely appropriate. BACKWARD-ASS SAVAGES! SWITCH TO PROPER DATE SYSTEM LIKE THE REST OF THE WORLD!.

Then the second part of the date hits me. 2009. That calms me down instantly. Huh. I go back to the driving license and find that the DOB is correct with an accounting of ten years of time travel. Plus after checking in the mirror I connect the owner photo with my face which is completely different from the original. Having no glasses and seeing in HD is a strange but welcome change.

I go back to the phone to find (once again) nothing much else. Contacts are empty, no apps beyond the factory ones and nothing in the memory. I don’t know what I expected by this point. The glove compartment also produces bupkis. A long sigh escapes me and seeing no more useful items I decide to drive to (I guess) my home and… I don’t know, drink myself to oblivion? That option is tempting since I’m beginning to accept the reality of this whole mess.

Another problem throws itself at me as my foot strike the ground where should be the clutch. I look beneath and find only two pedals... Just close your eyes and think of England. Wait no, don’t think of England. They’re even worse than Americans, at least they drive on the right side of the road. Thankfully I know how to operate both types of transmission. Also thankfully the car has navigation.

My possibly new home is not that far from school grounds, 20 min of leisurely drive later I’m there. Based on the mailbox (empty) I live on the 5th floor of a decent apartment building.

I dump everything on the kitchen table. A quick tour of the apartment produces similar disappointing results as my personal belongings. No real art or decorations, the only expensive items seem to be a high-end PC, wall mounted TV and bike in the hallway. The bathroom contains only one shampoo and one toothbrush so I’m probably living alone. Finally familiar grounds. This is pretty much the same as my place.

Now, where is the booze? Besides the occasional beer, I generally don’t drink but if this isn’t the perfect moment, I don’t know what is. The fate of Earth Bet will have to be put on pause, I have a date with a massive hangover.


	2. 02

The man plans and Gods throw wrenches. The fridge and every storage place in the apartment didn’t reveal a single ml of alcohol. Well, now what? Obviously, that has to change but after that disappointment, I decide to further the plot.

Deep search commences. I scour through every nook and cranny in the flat, by which I mean I go through the computer desk. Empty, empty and… you guessed it empty, the first drawer, however, promises great riches alas it’s locked. How will I ever defeat such insidious defense? It's probably better that I’m not currently in an inebriated state as I can use my brain and go get my keys. First good fortune smile upon as the first key I try works. I briefly consider opening it with a piece of string from another room for the fear of IEDs but that idea is discarded as I say fuck it and yank the damn handle.

I’m pleasantly surprised that instead of an explosion the drawer contains a stack of papers. Give me all the information you have you great beauties.

It seems that I… wait, time out. I ran to the bathroom and look in the mirror. There are a number of explanations and theories for these kinds of situations. I don’t have a lot of facts (or any really) but I try to think about this like the sci-fi nerd and amateur scientist (by which I mean that I watch PBS and Kurzgesagt) that I am. With no way to communicate or get additional info, there is no point to debate what happened to my… what, prime? original? classic? Earth. So philosophical musings if I’m a clone or it’s a transfer of conciseness type of deal are useless. On this side, however…

Well clearly this is not my body, I strip to my underwear, and… wow. Now I’m slightly attracted to myself. Great. I also check for any sort of markings and besides the heavily faded scar on my chest (?) I don’t find anything. Especially that one certain tattoo. I’m really thankful for the full body makeover but I’m getting cold so back to boring papers.

‘I’ began renting this flat only this month and am in this country for over seven years. Before that, I was the proud citizen of Czech Republic. Yay, my nationality is unchanged. I turn on the PC and google (some companies are transdimensional) myself. Apparently, when I was ten I was in a car accident that killed both my parents. Huh. To be honest I expected similar so it didn’t really faze me. Spent some (a lot of) time in the hospital being treated for… yeah, I’m gonna skip that laundry list of injuries, apparently, I’m a miracle because to survive that kind of damage with only a faint scar on my chest is… impressive to say the least. I know what you’re thinking but if I triggered then that by this time I would be wearing tights and wouldn’t that be a tragedy? (probably not for the ladies, ya know what I’m saying?) I must have gone through numerous CT scans and such but nothing and it’s not like I just dropped from the sky.

I quickly skim the rest. No close family, no real digital footprint except for this bombshell.

I have full credentials from some university I’ve never heard of that allows me to teach. Me. To teach. Me who hates children. Me who is more socially incompetent than Armsmaster. Awesome.

Despite what the internet and that one piece of paper on the floor say I’m not qualified to guide the future generation onto greatness. Just as I have that thought, a piece of figurative rebar rams into my brain and I spent the next few moments on the ground flopping about trying not to lose control of my bladder as over two dozen years of memories get downloaded.

After about 3 min it stops and I slowly get to my feet. It… didn’t really hurt but I wouldn’t recommend the experience to anyone. I look around for any sign of a large black man in sunglasses and leather coat offering me a suspicious pill (which I would take without hesitation) but no such luck.

Well, this should shorten the acclimatization process somewhat.

I… don’t know Kung-fu but accessing my new memories shows that I was much more physically active than my recently vacated, already slightly decaying, out of breath after a long set of stairs original body. Instead of flipy kind of MA that only works with wires or if you can bend the reality a little I focused on a more… direct type of combat. Muay Thai, Jiujitsu, Silat and few others in establishments that didn’t care about proper tournament forms. Plus alongside my primary education path, I also studied human anatomy. Yeah.

Having never been in a fight I figure there are 3 main rules of fighting. Number one, don’t fight. If you can talk, reason, bribe your way out of confrontation do so immediately. Number two, if you can’t then run the fuck away. Number three, if you can’t run then strike first and strike hard. My dimensional doppelganger added forth rule.

If in the end your opponents are not at least in the hospital and you in prison you’re doing something wrong. This should be fun.

The voyage through the rough waters of my (fictional?) history over with I shifted my focus on the rest of the world. It’s only 2009, a certain teenager of the female gender only dreams of superpowers and likewise, it’s gonna be two years before excrement starts hitting rotary equipment. I think I’m gonna leave my current city for the last and start reading about the world changes over the last twenty years.

The Chinese Union-Imperial or CUI is by far the most powerful entity (Heh) in the world, as I read the theorized numbers and powers that they supposedly have I really have to wonder, why aren't they doing more? Part of the answer is, pretty sure, Cauldron and their Plan but as I dig deeper to rumors and unverified sources I discover that they might not be so… Unionized. Sure they control the coast and practically every major city but China is a big place with a lot of people. Between the lines are mentions of fighting and rebellions. My very uneducated guess is that the Yàngbǎn are kinda like the local Protectorate. Only instead of PR, they are busy with informational warfare and possibly actual warfare against their own people.

The rest of Asia is also not doing so well, there are pockets of civilization and even some good decision making here and there but even to me, it’s clear it’s just matter of time. And not a whole lot of it. The one country I’m interested in I’m almost scared to investigate. They produced my one and only love to which I would gladly give my life for.

South Korea is struggling, besieged from all sides and even hit by an Endbringer (what haven’t they hit). I type the name and with closed eyes press enter.

………….

NOOOOOOO! STARCRAFT DOESN’T EXIST! THOSE FUCKERS! Don't know which ones but THOSE FUCKERS!

I’m so sad right now. And angry. And sad. You know what? I’m gonna blame the Cauldron on this one. Forget Case 53, forget their non-existent moral compass. This is the greatest crime they committed and I vow to all that's unholy that I’m gonna make them pay.

There wasn’t a lot of info on Gesellschaft in Worm but they seemed like the possible big bad of another story so imagine my surprise of finding that they (much like the CUI) are far less dangerous then they would like to be. Sure they are the largest villain organization in Germany, however (this time like the local E88) outside of their territory… nobody gives a shit. Even in their own country they only operate openly in the east. Guess what? Germany? You know, currently, probably the best place to live and also one of the countries where Nazis are not FUCKING TOLERATED? Yeah, not much is different here. They tried a few open incursions into other countries (mainly alongside the border) but got slapped around like a bunch of bitches.

Being the largest criminal org doesn’t mean much against the parahuman and military might of SEVERAL countries. I suspect that without help *cough*Cauldron*cough* they would have been curb stomped a long time ago.

Africa… there's not a whole lot of good reading material. Besides South Africa, which is holding onto a thread, the whole continent is engulfed in open warfare pretty much everywhere. The majority of the human casualties caused, directly or indirectly, by powers comes from there.

Middle-East however is… not terrible. Being the first target of an Endbringer probably didn’t help the development but at that time they didn’t know what just hit them so relief and foreign help were at all times high. Terrorism still hasn’t gained traction so many of the countries didn’t devolve to the Islamic hellholes of today. I’ve seen the pictures from 70’ and 80’, Iraq, Iran, and others were really good places to live and in here they… well not stayed like that but it’s close.

Have you ever thought about just how did (still do in my case) the Merchants and all the others were able to get SOOO many drugs? Well, the situation in South America is the answer. Cartels are controlling everything. That’s it.

If you think that the production of our cartels is massive, boy you have no idea. Colombia, Venezuela, Peru, and almost all the others are under direct control from drug empires. They’re not even trying to pretend because they have no need. Funnily enough, for the regular people, nothing is different. Sometimes the countries are even better than our own. Because of their absolute power, the cartels have no real enemies and as such, there is no conflict. Heroes and villains are sponsored by drug money and fight to promote the idea of what was it… the tip of my tongue… Ahh, Cops and Robbers.

Skip over the rest of the States (maybe some other time) and here we are. Brockton Bay. My future stomping grounds. I have an unfair advantage but I can’t be the only one seeing the difference. It’s not even funny how obvious is the shadowy hand isolating the city from outside interferences. Bad economy or other bullshit excuses, blocking and keeping the docks blocked is the largest evidence.

You know, all of this digging through history and motivations is getting little boring not to mention I have to do all that while dodging the constant barrage of news that Scion is missing.


	3. 03

There was a whirlpool of thoughts in my mind. What it means to me, to the world and to the powers? But also what is that feeling? Oh yeah, I’m hungry. Scion can wait, I’m grabbing a sandwich.

On my way towards the fridge, I look outside the window and notice that it’s still bright. That doesn’t seem right, surely I spend more than a couple of hours of reading based on my stomach. I blinked into existence at 15:42 (?) and arrived home at 16:17 (again ?), I don’t know when the Sun sets around these parts but it definitely should have been dark. I check the clock and find that it’s 05:50… is the AM/PM thing?

NOPE, did I just spent over 11 HOURS in front of the computer? Whoa... It’s not a record but it’s close. Also, I’m… not… tired? That warrants further look but for now my bodily needs. Next to the PC was a cup of water, which I apparently refiled five times, plus apple core.

Screw sandwich, mind as well make this a big breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast (where’s the actual bread?) prepared and devoured in a blink of an eye and we’re back in business.

I do some calisthenics but nope, still not tired. I’m sensing a possible superpower and a theme.

I grab a knife and focus. Few minutes of intensive staring and some tries to activate it (there may have been attempts at voice control, I’ll deny everything) but nada. I guess I won’t be calling myself Militant.

Still, apparent perfect memory and not needing to sleep? Hell yeah! I don’t need or want anything more, those are awesome! I want something more. Let's stay within the boundaries of Thinker powers first. I calm myself and push.

Time slows to a crawl and I can focus and analyze everything in my vision. Information floods my brain but I have no problem sorting and viewing all of it. I use several lines of thought to review myself. Noctis Cape, Perfect Mind and Shroedinger. I recognize those. I’m getting greedy but what else do I have?

Further testing and analyzing with my powers and my other powers called common sense and intuition reveals some results.

Protocols are the one thing I’m sure of, however, there are powers that I can’t test without something or someone else or they work passively and because I didn’t get a manual they might be already working. Peak condition for example. I think I have better stamina and motor control but that could just be the training.

I’m not going to be punching out Lung but these fit me perfectly.

Thank whoever is responsible that I didn’t get Tinker powers *shudder*, those would have been Protocolled away instantly. I have major respect towards scientist and engineers, plus if Warhammer 40K exist here and people haven’t connected Tinker ‘technology’ with Ork magitech I will be severely disappointed.

Perfect Mind and Shroedinger work beautifully together, when they’re activated I have all the time in the world to survey the situation and make a decision, however, it’s SUPERHOT (SUPERHOT IS THE MOST INNOVATIVE SHOOTER I'VE PLAYED IN YEARS!) kinda effect. Like I said, mentally I have the means but physically I’m just a dude (with a very particular set of skills, skills that make me a nightmare for my opponents). I imagine in a fight it will be mighty useful but not all-powerful like actual super-speed.

Protocols are difficult to test to their full extent. I don’t have friendly (or hostile) Master on hand but I’m hoping it will work against that. The mechanics of the power are however fascinating. As far I can tell Worm psychic powers work through strictly physical means rather than mental (I suspect Panacea can counteract most if not all Master effects). So my messing about is changing my brain chemistry and neural commands. That is good, that means I can do a whole lot. For example, if in the future I happened upon Armsmaster with his lying kit (he only dreams about for now) I can stop the time, write the correct script and voila, it’s gonna read truth because I convinced myself that I’m truthful.

Tattletale (did she even triggered yet?) is a different problem. Her power is a mixture of enhanced perception, post- and pre-cognition. So it will muddle up the info she’s getting but it won’t be 100%.

Speaking of precogs. The most important question is whether I have Blindspot or not. It’s not active power so I can’t even test it, I guess it will depend on my inevitable contact with Contessa. I mean, as soon as I see her I’m throwing the nearest thing at her and Blindspot is the one thing between epic fail and her mightly surprised face as that random object impacts.

I’ve spent a couple of hours on probing and prodding and I’m getting hungry again. I think I’m gonna take a walk and buy some fast food. Shower, a bit of grooming, put on some normal clothes, gather the essentials and I’m ready to meet the world.

My apartment building is close to the city center so I don’t take a car or a bike (we’re gonna get close very soon). Walking through the city and looking for some joint to eat from you could hardly tell that this is probably the worst city on the east coast. Sun is shining, birds are singing and skinheads are at least trying to blend in.

Except for those two fuckers throwing shady looks at a black guy across the street. I see you. I try to make my displeasure to be noticeable but they were too wrapped up in their little pathetic world. Well, how lucky are you that I have perfect memory? I’m gonna pay attention to see If I come across you later in my more Enthusiastic walks.

I get a burrito at probably the only Mexican place in town. Based on the location and the number of people inside it’s pretty popular and because of that they’re allowed to operate here. Well, that and the photos of various superheroes on the walls as they munch down on the local cuisine. I guess nobody wants to mess with the Protectorate favorite patrol food. Imagine that.

That is another point against the Nazis (if you need more). I’m not a big food guy, I mostly eat to survive not the other way around, but if your organization is against good food than maybe something is wrong and you need to rethink your Ideology.

After finishing my meal I’m basically just wandering about as I come upon Army surplus store. Might as well. Besides, forget about galavanting across the rooftops, there are some things I need for everyday use. The shop is empty so I browse for a moment until the shopkeeper calls.

“Can I help you with something?” He is a generic looking dude in his forties with a glorious beard. He has a full set of hair and no tattoo that I can see but unless I want to strip him from his T-shirt that doesn’t mean anything.

“Mainly I’m here for a pocket knife but I can see some other cool stuff.”

He goes from behind the register and towards knife display case. “Do you have some preference?”

I look at my hand and follow him. “It shouldn't be more than a what… 8cm? long but aside from that no.”

He turns his head looks and at me weirdly. Ah, yeah, I’m forgetting where I am. “3 inches or so.”

We go over the various types and I end up with nice stainless steel one with a partially serrated blade for 60$.

“Anything else?”

“Sling bag big enough for a laptop,” I also need to buy the laptop “and I’m gonna try out some fatigues.” I'm wary of buying anything more combat orientated. Gonna have to get some info on this guy or some other store in town for that.

300$ for the purchase but I don’t care much. Oh, have I forget to mention that I’m rich?

You remember that stack of papers in the now not-so-locked drawer? In the middle of those was a handwritten note with all the logins and passwords I could ever need. One of them was my bank information and in my account was happily sitting slightly over 300K. That’s not even talking about my soon to be conquested riches. It’s not Bruce Wayne type of money but I don’t think I’m gonna starve anytime soon. There is also savings account that generates not inconsequential amount of money. I can retire right now and live out the rest of my life in… well, not opulence but comfortably.

As I don’t have to worry about monetary means I began to think about gear. That's gonna be the bigger problem. I can buy all the knives that I want and stab vest or even a plate carrier, hell just in that one shop was a whole selection of them, but getting proper equipment will take some doing.

Not to mention guns. Can’t forget about those. Well sure I can get them legally (and maybe I should get carry license) but the problem with that is traceability. And yeah, once I go out into the world I’ll be able to collect all the guns I could possibly want but the first few incursions are gonna be tricky.

It’s not that late and I already have the bag so I at the nearest tech shop for a laptop. I’m two weeks from my first class (which I’m still iffy about), just for that laptop is useful. I wasn’t really around the tech world back in 2009 so I can’t compare the specs, plus there is the difference between our level of development, but I almost choke looking at the latest models. I’m not planning on running Crysis on this thing so it shouldn’t matter all that much.

Back home I began to plan.


	4. 04

Right now I’m on the clock, in two weeks I’m going to lose up to 3rd of my time depending on the number of classes, although with Perfect Mind and not needing to sleep it’s mitigated somewhat. So what can I realistically get done with this time frame? My first instinct says fuck all. I’m completely out of my element (my name is very close to Donny), with no backup in, again, probably worst city in the US (not counting Ellisburg and such).

I’m pacing across my apartment juggling my keys, USB stick and my new knife. I know it’s fucking stupid idea, stop yelling at me. For the record, I’m doing it as practice and the knife is closed.

First thing I can do is get lay of the land. That one is pretty easy, memorize google maps and start riding my bike around town for closer inspection and training. That’s a future ongoing effort but for now, let’s mark that down as a success.

Next is more intel. Good guys are easy, beyond the natural timing differences there is only one change in their roster from the original. The Wards have a leader called Sketch. She’s very similar to Naruto character as she summons her paintings but I really don’t think she's anywhere near Sais level. There are videos and articles about her to watch later so that's another point in the success collum.

Besides I’m not planning on interacting with the Wards often. Look I’m about the last person you would go for moral advice. As the man with a great name once said, when it comes to right and wrong ‘I wouldn't know right from wrong if one of them was helping the poor and the other was banging my sister…’ but the idea of government-approved child soldiers is… help me out here… wrong? Is it wrong? Yeah, I’m gonna go with wrong. That little nugget of wisdom aside it’s time for the other side.

Before I do that though I’m lodging a formal complaint against whoever yanked me in here. Perfect Mind is an awesome power constantly useful, there’s just one tiny little issue.

It doesn’t work on my original memories. Those 1,6mil words of Worm and who knows how many fanfic words that I read? Still in my noggin, except unlike this body’s memories (which I got downloaded) and everything that happened since I arrived here, I can’t access them with my power. Sure I remember Kaisers and Purity names (Max and Kayden Anders, they recently got married) and Hookwolf is Brad something or other but aside from that I can’t rely on anything. Sooo… that sucks. Back to my previous point.

Coil is the biggest threat, not because of his (future) actions but mainly because of his ambitions and tactics. He has great power, however, I’m hoping that my possible Blindspot (have to find a way to see if I actually have it) interfere and trump his precog. For a while, I’m seriously thinking of going after him first. Then I remember that all I have in my arsenal is one pocket knife. Against his, what, 50 highly trained professionally equipped mercenaries. That confrontation would be hilarious to watch.

Can’t do shit against him directly. Indirectly it is. The best way to go about it is to find a way to anonymously drop a line to PRT and the general public about his double life. Unwritten rules you say, status quo you say. Can you see the number of fucks I give? No? Well just for your information it’s about… that times this… carry the one… yeah, it’s zero. It doesn't mean that I’m going to reveal the identity of every supervillain I know. Where would be the fun in that? Have to keep some for me.

Oh, I almost forgot. How fucking stupid is the PRT? Coil has on his payroll actual mercenaries, you know, the ones with experience and skills against the usual riff-raff of the other gangs and they don’t consider him dangerous. Do you know just how much he has to pay them? I don’t but I don’t think they accept compliments and promises. Beyond some guerrilla warfare Coil goes on the backburner.

The Merchants are a better target. If I do enough damage, however, the other gangs gain a major advantage and have a chance to grow so they're more of a target of opportunity than the main course.

The ABB is… I don’t know what to do about them. I mean if I find out that the rumors about ‘The Farm’ are true then they are gonna be recipients of some literary education. Punisher Max: Slavers. ‘nuff said.

Who can guess who pulled the short straw?

E88 is large enough that if I hit them a few times it won’t matter and while their rank and file is filled with trash they get their gear from some proper sources. Plus the idea of having them in my sights gives me warm and fuzzy thoughts. The Parahuman element is very similar to its two years in the future form. Except it’s larger. Rune doesn’t exist yet or at least is not with them however that's the only good news. Purity is still firmly embedded in the group and with her are Crusader and the ‘couple’ Night and Fog.

Despite what you may think I’m not (completely) suicidal. I’m not planning on going after any of them for a long time without huge amounts of explosives, large caliber rifle, and four escape routes. Well, that's not completely true. There are some weaker ones that I can plan for, and possibly even take down in a fight.

However, the main issue with the Empire is their ties to the Gesellschaft. I have to start there otherwise nothing I do will matter. If I remember correctly Krieg holds the key. He’s regularly meeting with the larger organization in Europe and even though Kaiser is the leader everything international goes through the kinetic manipulator.

The biggest question is if the kill will be covert or out in the open. I don’t have a lot of experience with manipulation so drawing out Krieg in front of my barrel might be problematic. At the same time, I don’t think I should start with breaking the rules in such large way. You know what they say, ‘if you break the Unwritten rules everyone gangs up on you, blah blah blah’.

Decisions, decisions.

Another point is that I’m not sure how his power works exactly. As far as I understand he has shaker version of Assaults power. Because of that getting up close and personal is ruled out immediately. Attacking him at home is also a bad idea, he has all the advantages at tight spaces plus home ground. The best idea I have is hit him while on the job. As someone in a leadership position with his ties and area of experience, I’m gonna go on a limb and say that he’s in charge of shipments of drugs, weaponry and whatever else they have.

There is also the matter of timing.

With the recent disappearance of Scion, while it’s too early to make any serious observation, everyone is on their best behavior. Sure there are some *cough*S9*cough* who don’t care but Scion was always perceived as the greatest hero. The Protectorate especially is dealing with a constant barrage from the news about how things will change if he's permanently gone. There is… the stench of melancholy in the air. To disrupt this... equilibrium in a large way could be foolish.

I can’t wait.

First on the agenda is surveillance. For that, I need several new toys. Cameras, microphones, binoculars, new clothes and a whole lot more that will be highly suspicious if bought at once. Have to stagger my purchases, use cash only and have to straight up forget about some of the more exotic items. Unless I want to draw a lot of unnecessary attention my way that will have to wait.

Or have a supplier. I’ve already spent some time on this idea and it’s probably my best bet. It definitely creates some dangerous problems but with a thorough background check and proper fail-safes and such for the handovers, it definitely is a possibility. Anyway, that process will be longer than just these two weeks so onto the second goal. Acquiring at least the basic offensive hardware. The various low-level drug pushers might be of assistance in that regard.

There are plenty of sources on the city territories on the net so going into Merchant space, finding some suspicious characters and taking from them anything that goes boom shouldn't be much of a problem. Repeat as necessary.

By the way, I don’t know if this is power related or it’s from the memory download but I’m much better at spotting and understanding social clues than I ever was.

It takes a few days until I’m ready to make a move. What, you thought I would just waltz into the rundown area and beat up some junkies? Even this little soiree requires some preparations. Clothes from second-hand stores, ski mask, other bits-and-bobs and the most expensive item yet from the man with an awesome beard.

My second shopping trip gets me 3,5 kg under-armor that can stop everything short of a bullet. I mean it might stop .22 or even 9mm from a long range but I’m certainly not looking to testing that. I part ways with my new favorite shopkeeper and I’m glad that he’s at top of my list for the ‘man in the chair’ position. I did some checking. He has a minimal online presence but even with that, it’s not that hard to find out about someone in this day and age unless that person is seriously off the grid. He has no gang affiliation that I can find, no record and his postings are clear of any racial motives or any other red flags. Plus Vance ‘Rush’ Cantrell is ex-military. Even though he was never active combatant it does have a nice ring to it.

So now that the busywork is done and with the basics procured it might be time for some action.


	5. 05

Currently, it is 01:13 AM on the 24th of August and I’m standing in an abandoned building in the bad part of town looking at a drug deal going down. Before I crash the party I’d like to talk about this lovely city.

With the population of 350K Brockton Bay is in the top 50 most populated cities, however, the square footage is much higher than average for that number. A large part of that is the area I’m currently in and the Docks.

While the shipping purpose of them is practically non-existent (that’s something I’m gonna approach at later date) it’s still operational mainly for storage and the city works. The Merchants ‘control’ the largest territory primarily because nobody cares about it. Other gangs have much nicer digs and the good guys… out of sight, out of mind.

To the matter at hand.

The deal ends successfully and my target goes back to the alley he’s camped at. This is my second day of watching him. I started with light surveillance and questioned the local populace for their buyer, this is the guy most of them pointed me at. I even bought a few grams of weed yesterday just to confirm.

I’m also 90% certain that he has only a single guard. Not that surprising considering the area. The only dangerous individual (apart from me) here are strung up junkies and while a group of them is a definite threat that is a risk and rewards kinda deal.

I move from their blind spot with a metal pipe. The dark and their carelessness conceal my approach.

Kidney punch to the dealer and the guard gets pipe back-hand. I’m going for the non-lethal, not because of my (practically non-existent) morals but it’s for the narrative I’m trying to paint. Follow-up kick to the chest on the guards way down and he looks out of it. I consider him disabled for now and focus on the dealer.

He’s a skinny dude with relatively (to the area) clean clothes that look a little like Jay but his companion is missing the beard or the cap that would make him Silent Bob. He’s clutching the punched spot but surprisingly tries to go an offensive with a war cry and haymaker as he turns to face me. Strike to the solar plexus takes the fight instantly out of him. Add a knee to the stomach and he shares the ground with the guard, trying to catch his breath.

Zip ties, gag, and a bag over the head for the guard. I hit him pretty hard in the temple so he probably has a concussion, he’s conscious but that’s about it.

Not-Jay only gets zip ties as we're gonna have a conversation in a minute, plus he has yet to start breathing normally and I don’t want him dying on me. Pat down reveals a switchblade, .38 revolver with few spare cartridges and some drugs. Field interrogation time.

“Where is your stash!?” He keeps wheezing and tries to focus on me. I lightly slap him and ask again. “Fucking answer, where is your stash, man!”

“In… *wheeze* ...in...”

“In where, come on, spit it out” I slap him again and it looks like he got his breathing under control.

“Couple... buildings *wheeze* from here… it’s hidden” no shit it’s hidden why do you think I’m asking?

I jam the gun in his face and cock the hammer “you’re gonna take me there or I will blow your brains out, understand?”

He almost breaks his neck by nodding so fast. “Yeah sure... ugh”

I punch him in the gut. “Shut the fuck up, don’t make a sound unless I ask, you got it?”

Suddenly a smell fills my nostrils coming from his nether regions. He pissed himself. Ahh, and I had such high hopes for you Not-Jay. The guard gets dumped inside the building I was watching from and we’re on our way.

If he’s taking me towards an ambush I would be in trouble but somehow I can’t see it. I get proved right as we reach the stash in one of the rooms. Laying my companion on the ground I check the booty. Two types of powder, what looks like meth, some pills and a large bag of weed. It all goes into my backpack.

I take Not-Jay’s wallet and begin emptying the content. His name is Lenny… I like Not-Jay better. Hmm… it’s not far and one measly revolver is not enough.

“Where do you live?”

“What?”

I kick him. “Where do you live?”

He gives me the address from his ID.

“We’re gonna go over there and see if you have anything more.”

“What?”

I kick him in the same spot. “Say it again, say it one more time and I swear to god you’re dead!”

He wisely shuts up so I pick him up and we start walking towards his home.

Maybe it’s time to describe the picture I’m painting. My clothes are dirty and have some tears, I haven’t showered in two days and shaved in three (not that you could tell with a bandana on my face), I’m wearing a beanie to hide my hair and I’m running a few scripts.

I love Protocols. I can’t shoot lasers out of my ass but that seemingly only mildly useful power makes subterfuge and a lot more so much easier. My voice is slightly different and has a different accent, my walk, and mannerisms are different. As far as disguises go this one is not half bad.

We don’t encounter anything out of ordinary on our journey and here we are, standing in front of his door. By now Not-Jay has a gag and bag over his head just like his friend. Based on further questioning up to 3 tangos await me on the other side with more than a peashooter so I have to be fast.

The door opens and as we step in my human shield stumbles a bit over the threshold but I steady him. They’re sitting around a coffee table in the living room. We have Wife-beater, Baldy, and Smoker.

I throw Not-Jay at Wife-beater, my pipe at Smoker and charge the remaining one. A kick to the face sends him reeling across the floor space and I quickly follow up with a stomp on his chest. I feel something breaking so I turn my attention at the rest of them.

Smoker is on his feet and goes for the gun on the table. I kick the table from the other side. Its edge impacts his left shin and the gun goes under the sofa.

“FUCK!” He cries out and starts hopping around.

I can’t capitalize on that as Wife-beater is quick to disentangle from Not-Jay. He closes in and throws a punch at my face. I have all the time in the world to formulate a response. Should I block and counter-attack? Use his momentum and throw him? I’m spoiled for choices.

With one disabled and other temporarily distracted, I go for a combination. I duck under the punch, hug him and apply some of my newfound strength to lift him up a little and proceed to slam him on the coffee table. He goes through and is down for the count. I’m not really worried about the noise. Before anybody bothers to investigate I’m gonna be long gone.

Smoker recovers and bull rushes me. I’m properly braced and he doesn’t have the necessary speed so he can just ram my stomach. Except I’m wearing my very expensive and heavy vest so all he gets for his troubles is heavy exhale. With my left arm, I respond with an elbow to the back while taking out the switchblade with my right. After shanking him a dozen times he goes down and I look around. Nobody is capable of serious resistance as I tie them all down and starts pilfering the place.

Not-Jay was very forthcoming so I don’t have to bother searching through every drawer and storage compartment and I soon have everything in my backpack. Sure he may have withheld something, however, it would take too long to and I’m satisfied with what I get.

After exiting the flat I run up the stairs to the roof, throw the bag over first then jump on the adjacent building and my first hostile encounter is finished.

After-Action Report can wait after I get home.


	6. 06

A stash of clean clothes is waiting for me in yet another building that should have been condemned a long time ago but after striping down I find a small cut on my ankle. How did that happen? I tear a piece of the dirty shirt to bandage it, burn the rest and set my course towards the city center.

Weaving through empty back alleys, backtracking, doing everything possible to throw off my imaginary pursuers (one can never be too careful) what should have been nice stroll turned to almost 15 km sprint.

It is telling that by the time I arrive at my front door I wasn’t even sweaty. My new physical condition notwithstanding with all that I was carrying I definitely should be out of breath at least. Peak Condition is all but confirmed.

Now let's check the loot. The drugs I’ll dump tomorrow in the ocean as they are The Fruits from Satan and no self-respecting adult should ever touch them! I’m tempted to keep the weed. Through my apparent weak will, I remember I’m starting a teaching position next week and although I doubt there will be drug screening I rather not give the principal more reasons to fire me (I’m sure she will find something about me unsavory).

There is also the ‘be a role model to young children’ aspect. And yeah, I kill people but they don’t know that.

So what else?

2K donation for ‘Make city better’ cause and we finally get to the prime meat. .38 revolver, Glock 19 with an extra mag and short shotgun with a box of shells (slugs) that might see some use for breaching. Not a bad haul.

Looking at the guns my mind wander. Is this normal? Five people all the way down on the criminal ladder and I get two handguns and a shotgun? If this is the sign as what's coming, my tactics and defensive gear requires some serious upgrades.

Then there is the cut on my leg. I spent a few minutes with the replay feature of Perfect Mind and realize I’m dumbass. I have permanently active anti-pain script which is fine in theory but right now it’s decreasing my pain sensitivity across the board. That is why I haven’t felt the piece of glass when I put Wife-Beater through the table. Pain is a signal that something in your body is going wrong, not be able to feel it could lead to worse problems.

I have a weird relationship with pain. Twice in my previous life, I was injured enough that I should have screamed in agony except there was nothing. When I was 8 I tripped and the edge of my glasses buried in my eyebrow down to the bone. Half a cm from my eye. I literally haven't noticed until somebody pointed to me that I’ve got a hole in my head. Even after that, the first thing I felt was when the doctor stabbed me with a needle.

This awesome nugget from my past should tell you that pain is a great friend. Now I’ve got to reprogram myself. Thankfully the power governing Protocols is somewhat intelligent so complex-ish scripts are intuitive. Also, I do have a programming background, my professors would hunt me down to this dimension if I couldn’t figure it out. In the end, I set up a 0-10 scale and tell my brain to reduce the strength of the three highest points.

Then there is the evidence side of things. When it happened I wasn't looking down so I can’t tell if I left my blood behind. Even if I did it doesn’t worry me much. There was plenty of other blood to mask my own when I left and my DNA is not in any system so it can’t be linked directly to me. Next time might be different but for now, I’m safe.

The Sun interrupts my highly important activities (read: watching Youtube) a few hours later and after doing my usual routine I check my scratch. Except there is no scratch. I didn’t imagine it right? I did get cut up by broken glass but besides the few drops of blood on the bandage there was no way to tell. That… definitely is not normal.

So I have more superpowers after all and it’s a right from the A-list. Regeneration, that would explain why the only thing I have from my childhood accident is one scar.

I do a little victory dance as my survival chances increased drastically but then I realize the downside. The injury didn’t close in the fight or when I got home and treated it so it can’t be Regeneration. At least not in full. The evidence tells me that at best I’ve got enhanced healing which, while being extremely useful and convenient, it won’t help me in a fight.

Shit, I have to test the limits haven’t I? Once again Protocols comes in for a rescue. I make a small incision where the previous cut was and create a script that will alert me when it’s healed. All I can do now is wait and watch Youtube. That Scion clip will never get old.

He was flying at low altitude over the town of Granada in Spain when suddenly he stopped. The people observing and filming him started looking around as they thought that something is happening. For two minutes he just hovers there not doing anything when suddenly his expression shifts into confusion and possibly even fear as he frantically tries to blast off. Only he didn’t get a chance. There was a loud pop and he disappeared. Just… puff… one second there and another gone.

There are entire websites dedicated to his disappearance and I’m sure that Cauldron is in the perpetual state between elation and horror.

My theory, based on my existence here and outside knowledge, is that he was made to disappear by something or someone more powerful than him. What it was I can’t guess. Maybe Abbadon, maybe some other cosmic entity, maybe Scions race realized that their plan was stupid and decided to scrap the entire thing.

I also scour the internet for any mention of powers gone wrong but nada. However it happened, triggers weren’t affected, although it might be too early to tell.

A few videos later my internal alarm went off and I check my excursion into emo territory. It took slightly over an hour for basically a papercut to vanish. Yeah, no Deadpool impressions for me. I might not need a hospital in the future but I’ll still have to pack a first aid kit.

That over I do some preparations for the upcoming school start. Mostly I’m gonna be teaching first years with some of the older classes sprinkled on top. I received the materials from the teacher I’m replacing (no, it’s not Mrs. Knott, she’s still there) so I’m not completely screwed but it still gonna be a challenge.

It probably says something about me when I’d rather go against the scum of the city than try to mold the future generation. Perhaps it won’t be as horrible as I’m expecting. For all my social hung-ups (as in I hate people in general) I have no problem with presenting to a large audience especially about something I like. Now that I think about it, I would be pretty good at college level teaching.

The rest of the week passed with nothing significant happening. In that time I finished my initial reconnaissance of the city and started focusing more on the people.

Faultline hasn’t set up shop yet and without her, there wasn’t a group I could go to for support. I know that she would (will) be opposed to my methods, however, she eventually might be for information exchange, especially if I tangle some C53 facts in front of her face. Although I can’t actually tell her anything worthwhile since it would result in her, and possibly mine, immediate death.

New Wave, on the other hand, is present in full force. Amy and Victoria triggered at the end of the last year and already they’ve, along with their cousins, became known as the future hope of the city. Glory Girl and Panacea are media darlings and one of them (guess who) is milking for all it’s worth.

That reminds me. This early the influence of GG’s power might be easily reversible. All I got to do is approach the subject of light brainwashing in such a way that doesn’t end with me in a cell or with a fist through my chest. A piece of cake.

I really have a lot on my plate. School, Krieg and the Nazi assholes, Coil, this mess and who knows what awaits me in the future. I need a way to start crossing out some of them from the list.

Surprisingly Coil might be the easiest to handle but I can’t just shout his real name from the rooftops. I need hard evidence so he doesn’t get a chance to wriggle his way out. Finding his house was easy (good neighborhood) but the one time I followed him he just went to work. I don’t even have his schedule yet.

All I can do for now is take things one day at a time and see how it goes. Everything is not so bleak as I have one good news. The background check on Vance, the friendly shopkeeper, is in full swing. Two weeks max and I’m gonna introduce myself.


	7. 07

The D-day has arrived and I met it with my usual grace and elegance. By which I mean I stepped on my phone charger. Fuck, how does that even happen? Maybe I should have kept the pain reduction like it was because my foot hit the prongs and I want to die.

I would like to say that was the end of my misfortunes but alas, the world is cruel sometimes. As I was making my morning tea the kettle malfunctioned and caused short-circuit which blew the socket. Thankfully no fire but I’ll have to call someone to check the wiring, I don’t trust myself to replace it. Don’t fuck around with electricity kids.

It’s possible that Earth Bet runs on different rules and all the missing bad luck of my relatively calm past two weeks concentrated to a single day. I got further proof as I cut myself shaving. Goddamnit, of all days this is the one I don’t need things to go wrong. Well,... middle of a shoot-out would be worse but you get my point.

After exiting the flat I debate on using the elevator vs. stairs. I can’t do shit if something goes wrong in a lift so stairs it is. I slip on the first wet stair and barely avoid falling and breaking my neck. OK, seriously, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

I wasn’t this clumsy without superpowers, so wha.... oh… I might know what’s causing this. But that doesn’t make a sense, shouldn't it happen the first day? Shit, if it’s true then what other flaws do I have? Some I can rule out immediately but there are two especially that could be a problem. I’m already resolved to do something about the Nine but I would prefer it on my terms. The second… can’t do shit about the second.

The bike gets discarded as it doesn’t have airbags.

You remember how my flat is pretty close to the school and it only took 20 min to get home? Well, not today. Every fucking light turns red just as I approach, some shithead bumps me from behind (don’t care about that, my car is not expensive) and I keep expecting Armsdick to pull me over. If one more FUCKING IDIOT HONKS AT ME I’M GONNA PULL HIM OUT OF HIS CAR AND BEAT HIM TO DEATH! Do you see how calm and collected am I in the face of mild inconveniences?

Agonizing 50 min later I arrive at Winslow. Thank god I left early so there is still plenty of time to the first bell. My key snaps when I’m locking the car.

…………………………………………………..

I… did… how… fuck it. The school has a metal shop so I can borrow some tools to get in and I might as well practice starting the car without a key. My rage is so great that it transformed into tranquility. Let’s see what else the day has in store for me.

My first class start at 8 and I watch students full of excitement and hunger for knowledge fill the seats. When I attended million years ago, it was boredom and anger that the summer ended but let’s pretend, shall we?

The bell ring and my personal hell begin.

“Hello everyone, my name is Daniel Valenta and I’m going to be your IT teacher. I would like to say that this class is the most important but that would be a lie, maybe a fraction of you will ever need to know how to code or what’s the difference between Windows and Linux system. But make no mistake, computers are everywhere and at least basic understanding is vital to your future life.” I think I nailed my intro speech.

“Now please log in so we can begin. Username is your school e-mail, which is first name dot last name at Winslow dot EDU and password is your date of birth.” The sound of typing fills the room and I have the time to memorize each student.

And if I’m not horribly mistaken there she is. The savior of humanity (probably not needed now), slayer of Scion (he’s already gone so…), the skittering eye-gauger. Her blond shoulder-length hair is mentioned in every fanfic ever created. Her below average height is, no doubt, cause of some jealous feelings. And next to her is some girl named Taylor.

Oh wait, did I mixed them up? Silly me, I’m terrible with faces, I should watch out for that before I embarrass myself.

“Everyone finished?” I don’t hear otherwise so I move on “alright, the first thing you need to do is to change your password as I just revealed it to everyone” not even a chuckle? Come on. “On the screen, you will find an icon called Log-in, click that.”

I start with some hardware basics and if I may say so the class goes well. No activity from my flaw and the kids seemed to pay attention. My second period goes the same and after teacher meeting I’m free. I get some curious looks as I dismantle my car in the parking lot and I find out that movies lied to me. You can’t just cross a couple of wires and be on your way. Sure, I could have called the tow service (I have a spare key at home) but at this point, it’s about my pride. I will not be defeated by bad luck.

After two hours of Youtube tutorials and sterned talking to from a security guard, I manage it. Ha, and all it took was complete disassembly of the dashboard and almost electrocuting myself.

I spend the rest of the day on constant guard but no more freak ‘Final Destination’ accidents happen. Maybe it’s over… did I jinx myself? I look around the room but nobody is kicking down my door. *phew*


	8. 08

People usually spend their Friday nights partying, spending time with their families, attending to their hobbies and generally just… enjoying life. That’s why I’m now looking at naked dude tied to a chair. Hey, don’t kink-shame me, there is a perfectly good reason for this development.

The gentleman in question is Marshall the convenient Nazi. Alongside my supplier, I also searched for potential sources in law enforcement. The progress is very slow, besides the obvious dangers, I don’t actually know what qualities I should be looking for. The burning passion for justice should be balanced by… I don’t wanna say corruption but corruption so they don’t have a problem passing me information but finding the right combo will take some doing.

In the meantime, however, I identified several one-time sources. Of course, not all records are public but when you’re patient the sky’s the limit. Marshall, for example, has file thicker than my… arm, yeah let’s go with an arm. Nothing serious but he did some time in the big house.

It’s… not hard to kidnap random person off the street, I just walked up to him while he was walking to his car, pressed a knife to his back and voila we’re here. Just a piece of advice if you’ll find yourself in this situation, never let the kidnappers transport you. Scream, run, fight, do anything otherwise you’re fucked. The bigger issues are preventing him from escaping and avoiding capture. Both are mitigated by the fact that I’m not planning on keeping him for long.

We’ve been here for over 3 hours already for two reasons, first is to let him stew for a while so he’ll be more compliant and second I was waiting if somebody would come for him. If they did then hey, no harm no foul (except for… you know... the kidnapping) I would just leave and try again some other time with a different dude.

I think that was enough so let’s get to it. I remove the bag over his head and he starts rapidly blinking from the harsh light. I wait until he gets his bearings.

“Hi, I know how confusing this must be for you but don’t worry, just a while longer and it will be over. Now I prepared a speech so you understand what’s going on. You don’t mind me monologuing a little do you?” I take his silence as agreement and press on. “The most important is this. I ask a question and you’re gonna answer. After I’m satisfied I’ll release you and you can go back to your life, I'm sure that your girlfriend already misses you. That’s it, that’s the concept, I ask and you answer. Now for the details.” He is focused and I haven’t done anything to him so I assume he follows me.

“If you would please look to your right” on the table are prepared pliers, hammer, screwdriver, and few other tools. He becomes distressed and starts struggling, can’t imagine why “don’t worry, just… look. look at me” he does “I’m not planning on using them, they’re here for… what’s the word… tip of my tongue…” I snap my fingers in his face “emphasis, that’s the word. Uhm… where was I… oh yeah, I don’t care if you lie” he blinks in surprise “just as long as you talk, and really, you know how in movies they talk about tics or tells that someone’s lying? That only works if you know the person well. On the other hand, if I catch you lying badly… well, then I will hurt you.”

I pace a little around the room to give him time to digest. He seems to be taking the situation in stride so I move to remove the gag.

“Oh, I almost forgot, if you have the need to shout for help feel free. We’re currently in a basement of an abandoned factory" I made him drive to the first location then tied him up, put him in the trunk and driven here "soooo unless you have a very powerful set of lungs… also if, by some miracle, somebody heard you… let’s just say people in this area won’t call the cops.”

He immediately starts speaking “I don’t know anything, please just AHH”

I punch him. “And here I thought you’re brighter than the usual Nazi idiot… shame on me. You do remember the first rule right? I ask and you answer if I don’t ask then you stay quiet. It… is it that hard to get that? Really?”

“Alright let’s start again. The first question, you ready?” He nods still lightly stunned from the punch, eh lightweight.

“Was the speech good?” He stares at me. “I mean you didn’t get the ‘ask and answer’ part but aside from that was it long? Short? Threatening enough, that kinda stuff.”

“Oh it was great, I’m sorry about… about speaking first. I get it now, completely get it.”

“Thanks. You’re lying, of course” he stiffens “but I’m gonna let that one slide” he relaxes “so we can move on.”

What followed was 2 hours of exhausting labor. Turns out he is a member of E88 but only on the absolute bottom. He never even saw any of their parahumans, the most significant ‘job’ he got was transferring boxes from one warehouse to the next and in the end, I felled like I’ve wasted my time. The only useable intel was the name of his superior and that guy's boss. I’m thinking about skipping the middleman. Although the boss might be harder to get to. I’ll think about it later.

“I’ve told you everything so you’ll let me go right?”

“Yeah, yeah sure” where did I put the ear protection? Ah, it’s still in my bag. After all, I wouldn’t want to get Archer’s favorite injury.

I pull the revolver and aim it at Marshall’s head.

“NO wait you said that you’ll let me go!”

“Obviously I lied.” *BLAM*

He slants and blood starts to pool at his feet. Thankfully I followed Dexter’s example and wrapped the entire room in plastic sheeting. Didn’t Marshall recognize kill room or was he deluded and thought that I’d actually release him?

After cleaning up I pack everything and drive outside of town to the already dug grave. Dump the body and the plastic in, switch cars and I’m done. Well, that was… certainly a thing.

It’s now almost midnight, I wonder if I can get some takeout on my way back?


	9. 09

It was nice to see that some people are honest and even though I got the answers through... let’s say unconventional means I could rely on their information. I ultimately decided to skip Marshall's immediate boss and focused on the step above him. Unfortunately, that came with a set of complications.

Unlike my previous ‘informant’ I couldn’t just snatch Odell Linwood off the street. Well, I could but I wouldn't get very far. Unless they’re trained to be invisible he doesn’t have guards per se but all other circumstance of his day-to-day life means I actually have to plan my approach.

The one good thing that came from following him is a general area of Empire warehouse. Or at least that's what I’m guessing. I couldn’t follow him further without high risk of detection but you don’t drive to a decayed part of the factory district for a Christmas presents. If I found out the location I might not even need him. Of course, If I do find out I can’t storm the gates with just a handgun and can do attitude.

That brings me to my current whereabouts. It’s middle of the night and I’m inside the bedroom of a sleeping middle-aged man. Funny how often I find myself in scenes from porn script. I turn on the lights and throw a magazine at his head. I’m not a complete moron, I did check if he doesn’t have means to blow me away (heh).

He has good reflexes, it only takes a couple of seconds to find the cause of his interrupted sleep. The masked man at the foot of his bed. “Wha- Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are doing in my house!?”

“Shut up and listen, I’m not here to hurt you, Vance, I’m only here to talk.”

He doesn't seem to believe me, I wonder why. “And you didn’t think about a phone call asshole? You had to wake me up?” I like him.

“For this kind of conversation, it’s better if there is no record of it and I also wanted to have it in private.”

“You’re not here to buttfuck me are you?” We even think alike!

“No, that’s not my thing but If you agree to my proposal there is a chance you’ll get fucked. And not in a nice way.”

“Is there also a chance that you change your mind and just fuck off?” I shake my head “...yeah though not. Alright, lay it on me, what IS your thing?”

“Shooting people in the face” he didn’t expect that judging by his expression. “More specifically shooting Nazis, drug dealers and generally criminals in the face.”

There is a moment of silence while he’s processing my statement.

“Put your pants on and meet me in the kitchen, I made coffee.” I also took his phone.

I hand him a cup when he comes in and after he downs almost half of it he starts. “You’re insane.”

“Could be but I’m not the one who thinks that having 200 or so people killed annually is OK. And before you say it, I know it’s slightly hypocritical coming from me when I’m planning to add to the number.”

“You think that going on some sort of crusade will help?”

“Fuck no, I could kill a dozen scumbags a day it won’t make a difference but that doesn’t mean they deserve to take another single breath.”

“And where do I fit in in this genius plan of yours?”

“I’m glad we got to that point. My will is useless when I don’t have the means to see this through. Your job would be to quietly acquire equipment for me to use.”

By this time he drained the rest of the cup and went for a refill.

“I assume you know where I work?” I nod “So you know I can’t get you any guns, and why do you want them anyway, couldn't you just set them on fire or something? You’re cape right?”

“No.”

“The fuck you mean no?”

“I mean I’m not a parahuman, I don’t have any powers.”

“So what, you just woke up one day and decided ‘hey wouldn’t it be fun to go around and start killing criminals?'’’

“Pretty much, except it wasn’t snap decision, I prepared for quite some time.” He’s looking at me like I grew another head. I hope I haven’t broken him.

“Besides, I don’t want guns from you, it wouldn’t exactly be anonymous if there was receipt linking you and by extension me to the buy. I also have a possible lead to a stockpile. You would provide me with everything else. Ammo, defensive gear, helmets and all kinds of shit like that.”

“Let’s say I agree, which is not fucking likely, let’s say I get you the stuff, most of which can be traced regardless, let’s even say that you get access to serious hardware. How long do you think you will last?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What!?”

“It won’t matter if Hookwolf shreds me on my first outing because I would’ve still done something. For a number of reasons, I can’t join the police or the PRT so this is my way. Besides, it’s going to be a lot of fun.” I put USB stick and burner phone on the table and get up. “It’s Thursd- no Friday already so I will call at 9 o’clock Sunday, that should give you enough time to go through the information on this. If you’re not convinced then you can tell the cops about the crazy person that broke into your home.”

He can’t identify me and I was careful not to leave any evidence so I can take the risk. If he refuses I have another person I can try, it would mean postponing any major action but surprisingly my day job is pleasant enough so I could focus on that.

When I have the chance I make my opinions about gangs, bullying, and general not-OK-behavior be known but I have minimal contact with Taylor and because of my limited work hours I can’t change the... course of history just yet. Fridays I have free so I can spend the day tailing my persons of interest straight to and from work.


	10. 10

I can’t base any conclusions from a single day but my lizard brain is telling me that the previous discovery was simply dumb luck so I have begun plan C. Foot reconnaissance of the general area where I THINK is the magical warehouse full of high-quality weapons. If this doesn’t pan out I’ll go back to plan A, slowly working through the Empires food chain.

I might still do it because this is fucking slow and boring. Some legitimate businesses still operate here so it’s not like I’m walking through Pripyat but I could count the number of people I’ve seen on a single hand. And that’s not only because it’s 2 AM. The van pulling up on the opposite side of the street is the first sign of life in about half an hour.

I observe six men drag a tied struggling body into the depths of a defunct restaurant.

Huh.

Did… did that just happen?

No street lights and my superior stealth skills mean they didn’t see me so I have a choice to make.

Yeah, right.

The only choice is how should I engage. I have the Glock but I don’t really want to use it. Limited ammo notwithstanding I haven’t actually fired a gun before. The point-blank execution doesn’t count. OK, that is not completely true, my downloaded memories show that I have gone to the gun range several times and done well but shooting in a controlled environment and, in action are different things. Plus, I haven’t shot from this gun yet. Sure, I’m confident that I could put rounds on target but I don’t want to test it now with a potential bystander in the way.

Up close and personal it is.

There’s nobody in the dining room and I could hear voices from the kitchen. I could take one of the remaining chairs as a weapon but in such close quarters it would slow me down and against six hostiles I need all the speed I could get.

I creep up to the kitchen doors and listen. “-eed to do this Jake.”

“Have some fun with the bitch first, we won’t mind.”

“Don’t pussy out now, you came this far.”

Thank you, stereotypical assholes, thank you for giving me confirmation. It would be awkward if there was a good reason for this and I would mistakenly kill you. After all, I did and plan to do again a similar thing.

They are so concentrated they don’t notice me slipping in the room. One guy in the back, then two pairs separated by kitchen island and the sixth is with the victim in the freezer. That guy is my main problem, no matter how this goes down he’s going to have plenty of time to kill her or at least use her as a hostage. Alright, let’s do this.

Broken glass crunch under my boots but the first doesn't get a chance to react. I wrap my left arm around his mouth and open a few new holes in him. Kidney, lung, throat, and heart. Can’t take any chances. I let him fall and charge the others. Goddamnit, why couldn't I get speedster powers? It would have been over in a couple of seconds.

I assume Jake is the youngest so I go for the other pair. They have just enough time to realize what’s happening and I’m in the middle of them.

Chaos ensues.

I flip the knife to reverse grip and second gets a deep slice to the neck, the amount of blood suggest I hit the jugular so two down. The third throws a punch which I dodge and put him in an armbar. I manage to sever the inner elbow tendons but my downwards stab gets blocked. Probably instinctive but still, nice job skinhead number 3. No, I shouldn't assume, they might be a boyband with matching hair and clothing styles. Maybe I would do differently but I can’t argue with results as the sixth goes for an attack that I can’t block or dodge. Shit. My right arm is in the way so he can’t land the punch on my jaw but my temple and nose are undefended. I hope it hurts him same as me when I tilt so he strikes my forehead. I at least land a front kick on my stumble back.

I tune out the screaming and shouting while I take stock. Two down, one has a disabled arm and another is clutching his stomach. On the other side of the counter, Jake is freaking out and the fourth member is pulling out a gun. Double Shit.

I throw the knife at the third, even managing to cut him and vault over. Left hook takes care of Jake and I’m inside the fourth space. In the slowed time I notice the safety is off so the priority is to control the gun. Throat punch with my right while I eject the magazine with my left and I’m halfway there. I really hope for some bad guy stupidity when I grab the arm to aim at the sixth who recovered and is going around the counter. Strike to the wrist, which causes the fingers to contract rewards me by a loud crack right next to my ear and the sixth goes down from a chest wound.

And now there are only two and a half.

I hook the fourths leg and topple him. Massive stomp and his face is no longer recognizable. Second stomp and his throat is half as thick as normal.

I have to applaud their fighting spirit as the third Nazi advance. Also, their generosity because he has my knife. Why thank you, for providing me with better means of killing you.

One left.

I step over the growing pool of blood and look at sobbing Jake on the ground. The babbling about being sorry is interrupted by burrowing the knife in his brainstem. I loot and finish off the whole bunch and go check on the tied up body in the freezer.

“Don’t worry it’s over, I’ll remove the gag so please don’t scream, my ears are injured enough”, my bedside manner could be better but the young woman is sympathetic or perhaps just tired to make a sound.

“I promise I’ll not hurt you OK? It doesn’t look like you’re seriously injured but I can’t tell in this darkness. I’m going to untie you and carry you outside so be calm, I’m here to help.”

She even puts her arms around me while I bridal style her out of here so I assume she believes me.

Moonlight helps a little when I inspect her further on the curb outside. “Good news is they didn’t hurt badly, the bad news is you’re gonna be sore in the morning.” I put a phone in her hand “wait 10 seconds then remove your blindfold and call the cops. I will be nearby until they arrive but I don’t want to deal with them.” I get up but she grabs my arm and stops me.

“Wait,... please don- don’t go.”

“I promise you’re safe, there's nobody around here but us and if something happens I’ll be right with you but… look the cops might be grateful but I’m not taking that chance, the assholes that attacked you are… not exactly in great shape so please” I cup her hand and she lets go.

It takes 20 min for the police to arrive and after I’m sure she’s fine with them I head home. Maybe they’ll search the area but they wouldn’t find me here even if I stayed still.

After robbery and kidnapping, this is my first good deed since I got here and I’m really pleased about how it went. I never planned to patrol or shit like that because... well it's stupid so this might be the only occasion I get to feel the warm and fuzzies that normal 'superheroes' get to experience all the time.


	11. 11

The faint ringing stops right around when I enter my living room and I can only thank my lucky stars for the healing, it was supremely annoying. Some good did come from my suffering as my arsenal got expanded by, drumroll, .45 1911. Along with my previously obtained Glock the most common handgun in the world. Except it isn’t just a normal run of the mill 1911. It’s Wilson Combat model CQB Tactical LE. That… is one nice gun. Also fucking expensive. It costs twice as much as my really high-end PC, how and why the fuck did some random moron had this? The only thing I can think of is that he was serious gun-nut or had more money than sense. Or both. The point is I have my primary sidearm. Or I will as soon as I get more ammo, it would not be wise to go into battle with just one mag with 7 rounds.

The rest of the weekend goes normally, I play some games and prepare for the upcoming school week and all that’s left to do is to make a call. I bike to a nearby park which I’m positive doesn’t have cameras and dial the number. He picks up immediately.

“I hoped you get killed or at least forget that I exist but I guess I’m not that lucky huh.”

“We can’t have everything we dream of, where would be the challenge in that? So you’ve decided?”

Few seconds of silence passes “is the info true?”

“Everything I gave you is publicly available and easy to check. I have far more but the proof is hard to come by and for now, it’s all theories and suspicions. Anyway, this is yes or fuck you situation, if you want more we can meet tomorrow but I need to hear you say it.”

I realize this is not a decision that should be taken lightly but I’m not asking him to back me up in a firefight, just to get me stuff so I can survive one so I don’t really see the difficulty in the choice.

“Alright, I’m not saying I’m in but… yeah, we should meet.” Ehh, good enough.

“Fine, I’ll text you the time and location. See you then.” I hang up, turn off the phone and bike back home using a different route.

Every precaution I came up with is based on common sense and dozens of spy movies so anybody with actual skills or dedication can probably get around them but unless I recruit somebody to teach me tradecraft they will have to do. And that’s not even considering Thinkers and the like. I racked my brain trying to set up counter-measures for them but ultimately I thought, fuck it. I can’t do anything if somebody figures out my name from shoeprint I leave behind or some shit. Thankfully as I understand it, Tattletale level powers are rare.

The next evening I camp out in the chosen four-story parking lot and text Vance. I don’t spot anything out of ordinary in the three hours until he arrives so it might actually be safe. I approach the car when he parks on the third floor.

“Do I have to worry about SWAT team jumping from your trunk?”

“You’re one paranoid motherfucker, anybody told you that? But I can’t exactly blame you can I? So, here I am, what now?”

I hand him a stack of papers “in here is most of the things I want for Christmas and you’re gonna be my Santa. Obviously, some things will be harder to get but you can skip those if you can’t get them. Start at the top with ammo, holsters, and helmet. That one is important, the higher the quality the better.”

He flips through the pages frowning more with each one “this is like… 15 maybe 20k worth of shit, even if I agree, and that’s big fucking if, you think I will shell out that much out of my own pocket?”

“Let’s make something clear. This is the moment. Either you take the folder and work with me or you get in your car and we never see each other again but you choose right now and stop dicking around.”

He looks at me with a weird expression “you’re really going through with this, aren’t you? Wha- What about working with the cops or I don’t know, sending the information you gave me to the media or something. There have to be other methods than just going on a killing spree.”

I almost can’t hold the laugh “what the fuck did I tell you? I didn't hack any servers or stolen some state secrets, it’s all accessible to the public. Anybody important who can do anything about it either doesn’t give a shit or is complicit. There is nobody to leak information to. Fucking hell, man!”

“Alright, alright don’t blow your gaskets.” he again lowers his eyes to the papers “look, I can get you the first batch, it’s not like you couldn’t just buy it normally, but I need money, I don’t have that kind of cash just laying around.”

I shrug my backpack off my shoulders and take a small paper bag from it “here is three thousand and a new phone with my number, don’t call text, every once in a while I’ll turn on my phone and answer. Also, there are three factors you should consider. Anonymity, quality, time. In that order.” I extend my hand “do we have a deal?”

“Fuck” he whispers and shakes it “I’m already regretting this.”

I let go “That’s the spirit.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll show me your face when I just signed myself to die.”

“Keep dreaming but… I'll give you something. Frank, my name is Frank.”


	12. 12

Contrary to popular belief parahuman violence is not that common and Taylor’s adventures in two years time are very much out of the norm. Statistically, cape on cape fights happens once every two or three weeks in a city with Brockton Bay size. In BB the rate is of course increased but not by much. Because of the… organized nature of local gangs and the type of parahumans big battles are almost unheard of. For example, since the takeover Lung was seen only a handful of times. Naturally, the public doesn’t know about everything that happens and the number will go up if you count fights when capes are only on one side.

All that means that when six people get killed by unknown vigilante it does make the front page. That reminds me. I’ve already mentioned the main players but I haven’t told you yet about the unaffiliated capes, of whom I’m now officially a member of.

There are around eight active and semi-active parahumans at all times, currently the most famous (or infamous) is Shadow Stalker and there are some speculations on PHO (I will get to that site later) that those six were her doing (even though the witness said she was rescued by a guy). While they’re already together Uber&Leet haven’t made an impact and Parian hasn’t set up shop yet. Kinda shame that, she’s one of the… maybe four people I genuinely respect.

My… ‘enthusiasmus’ notwithstanding it would be a bad idea to draw too much attention to myself so I took a month off. That is not to say I just lazed around. I had so much work, It would take three times longer if I had to sleep. With Vance on board, I could finally train my shooting and let me tell you, the difference between the Glock and the 1911 is… staggering. I’ve gone through about 2k rounds for each gun and I’ve never been that attracted to inanimate object before. I’ve almost sent a thank you letter to Wilson Combat.

Also, the surveillance got easier and harder with access to cameras, misc and trackers. Harder because I have so much more to watch. One Thomas Calvert became my main target. I got to give it to that psychopath, he’s one careful motherfucker. Maybe it’s about being Cauldron cape but he doesn’t seem to be relying completely on his power and he gave me some ideas about my own security. But. With patience, determination, skills, and proper tech nothing is impossible and pretty soon I will have him. One of the reasons why I don’t just execute the fucker or bomb his home (besides the lack of explosives and his trophy wife) is that I want at least some of his stuff and he hasn’t led me to his base yet.

Outside of my extracurricular activities, I was similarly busy. Six years of coasting through German classes left me with VERY limited knowledge so I brushed up on that. Well, with Perfect Mind I was a sponge so ‘brushing up’ means I’m almost fluent, another week or two and I will be able to sprechen with the best of them. I also took Spanish classes for two years but I don’t think that will provide me with a large advantage so next on the list is Korean. As I understand the language was invented (reformed) with easy learning in mind so it shouldn’t take me long.

Now something about my online activities. PHO is garbage. There, I said it. Alright, it’s not that bad but I don’t get how the most popular site when it comes to parahumans is like that. It’s… functional is the best word. It was active before Dragon emerged but if you look closely the change over the last couple of years is plain to see. That’s the main reason I don’t understand it’s current form. While she may have started like one, in my mind Dragon has… evolved from AI to True AI (or she will if I have a say, I have some ‘plans’ for Saint) so it’s surprising that her creation is so… machine-like. PHO doesn’t have any style or flair and while it has all the necessary stuff it’s lacking in many popular or quality-of-life functions.

So that’s why I’m creating Reddit.

If my legacy will be depriving millions of people of sleep so be it. Youtube, IMDB and many other sites that I took for granted exist is one form or another but there is no ‘front page of the internet’ so I begun efforts to rectify that. Fuck the actual coding, I’ve looked around and talked to some people that were interested in the idea and something might be happening in the near future.

One thing that I haven’t managed to do is to find a place for my base of operations. For now, I have everything in my apartment but that is extremely stupid and just not practical when I get more stuff. I toyed with several solutions but nothing clicked yet. Now is the time for my weekly sleep so perhaps I’ll figure it out in the morning.

Tomorrow the principal called for a mandatory meeting, I wonder if it has anything to do with the Protectorate announcement about the new Ward.


	13. 13

This is the perfect opportunity to expand on my day job a bit.

I’m the youngest teacher in Winslow by a wide margin, the runner-up is 34 years old Mitch with double duty of biology and french. Coincidently he’s also the guy I’m closest to. Most of everyone else is either beaten down by the establishment and resigned to only do the absolute minimum or never caring in the first place. I guess this school attracts a certain kind of person.

Perhaps that’s why I wasn’t exactly welcome among my fellow colleagues or a large part of the ‘general population’ for that matter. I gained a… not so flattering reputation. The gang part especially, which, holy fuck, is about a third of the kids, hates me with a fiery passion. It’s not like I’m waging war on them or anything but with their size and their… usual customs I often find myself punishing them in one form or another.

Which bring me to the ‘grown-ups’. Principal Blackwell didn’t disappoint and is the right amount of corrupt, incompetent and just giant bitch. She talked to me about ‘attitude’, ‘teacher’s responsibilities’ and ‘difficulty of running a school with troublemakers’ more times than I can count. Well I could, I just don’t wanna. Fortunately, I’m not doing anything wrong per se so she can’t fire me. Also, I took an example from a certain security guard and am recording everything. It didn’t come into play yet because (until now) my regular targets are not the types to go running to their parents crying about mean teacher.

Not everyone frowns when they see me as the normal kids got a friendly authority to look up to. And not the Gladly type of friendly which…. he’s a dick. I know I shouldn’t judge anyone by their brief mention in the original work but… after almost two months in his presence, I can verify that he is, in fact, a dick. In my school years, all of the teachers were friendly to some degree but they never forgot that they were, you know, teachers.

The school doesn’t have dedicated meeting room big enough for all of us so after the last class is finished I head to one of the classrooms. I arrive with the last group and take a seat next to Mitch.

“You know what’s going on?”

“Hey Dan, I heard something about special grant but beyond that? Beats me.”

The principal enters the room with her secretary and a Suit in tow. The guy is the most Suit-like person I’ve ever seen, briefcase and everything. I barely manage to not bet Mitch that he’s a lawyer.

“Before we begin all of you need to sign a Non-disclosure agreement. The subject of this meeting is sensitive and any breach of the NDA will result in fines or even potential prison time.”

A lot of glances and hushed conversation after that bombshell. “Ma’am, why would we sign anything without you giving us a reason? If the consequences are that harsh we need something.” One of the senior teachers asks.

Blackwell looks at the Suit and he nods. “I can tell you that Winslow is privileged to have one of the Wards,” another round of glances “but that’s all I’m permitted to say. This is Sid Sherman, he’s the lawyer” called it “responsible for the legal matters of this meeting. I’ll let him explain the details.”

She gave room for the Suit “Thank you madam principal. This is the first time a Ward is attending this school but protocols exist so it shouldn’t be a problem.” He opens his briefcase and takes out a folder “most of you will sign a simple NDA, prohibiting you from divulging the information to the public but I also have more comprehensive ones for those of you with the Ward in class. As this is just an informational meeting I will spend the next week dealing with those, individually. For now, I’ll let the simpler one circulate,” he gives the folder to the front row “and after that’s done the principal can continue.”

It takes a couple of minutes for the folder to reach me. As far as I can tell everybody signed and far be it from me to sign something legally binding and then disregard it. I skim the document which tells me that I’ll become a social pariah and be hunted by the Triumvirate themselves if I don’t behave, only in much more complicated and vague terms. Eh, what’s the worst that could happen? I sign on the dotted line and pass it on.

The last person gives it back to the Suit. “I believe my part is finished unless there is a question?” He pauses and looks around but at least in my case, I’m more interested what Blackwell will say. When nobody speaks up he continues. “Thank you for your time and as I said I will be meeting some of you in the following week. Goodbye.” He picks up the briefcase and leaves.

“Now I can reveal to you who the Ward is and how the arrangement will work.” Blackwell starts again and, surprise surprise, the Ward in question is everyone's favorite edgy ex-vigilante Shadow Stalker.

In the next two hours, we go over how she should be treated like a princess and how we all should be proud and honored by her presence. I… almost nod off in the middle, I have half a mind to interrupted, especially since Sophia Hess is in one of my classes, but as I look around I see there would be no point. This is my first chance of seeing the results of 20 years of propaganda up close and it’s… something. The almost worship of 14-year-old kid would be hilarious if it weren’t for how deep-rooted it is.

Between the lines, I can recognize that for Blackwell it’s mostly about the money Protectorate gives out but Cauldon must be really good at their job if they accomplished this. Even the oldest teachers have next to no problem with Sophia receiving special treatment so she has an easier time rescuing criminals and beating up kittens. Or something.

After the meeting is over I go home and down a bottle of Jack to wash the bad taste. In principle, I think the Wards are a positive force in the world but the culture around them disgust me to no end. The few groups of people perceiving them for what they are are discredited and ridiculed with only the Youth Guard being somewhat serious.

Shadow Stalker switch to firmly being on the angels' side has affected even my nightlife. With her gone, there is now an open spot for ruthless vigilante which I’m more than happy to fill. The Empire’s warehouse, which I’ve finally found and plan on hitting soon, should be a great help in that regard.


	14. 14

I still haven’t found a good spot for the armory so right now I’m squatting in a random building in the docks. All my battle gear is laid out in front of me and I’m going over last-minute inspections. Obviously, I don’t have everything I would like to (NVGs and thermal for example) but in essence, I’m running with similar stuff as soldiers.

Crye Precision provides the base layer of tear resistant and more importantly flame retardant black/gray clothes. It will still catch on fire but it won’t melt to my skin, the next level would be straight up firefighting gear but those have tradeoffs and are far more expensive. Gloves out of the same material complete the set with reinforced knuckles and a very thin metal sheet on the backhand. Out of curiosity, I want to check out female clothes. The cape ratio on their side, I wonder if it had an impact on their clothes, especially pockets. I have like ten different ones in my cargo pants, all useful.

I have my eyes on full body armor but since I’m not expecting a heavy resistance I’m fine with just light bulletproof vest and plate carrier. However, the one piece of equipment I’ve waited for, also by far the most expensive, is my helmet. The protection level is similar or maybe even slightly higher than the best of my world but Earth Bet has managed to exceed my expectations. Normal helmets WILL stop anything short of a rifle round and PROBABLY will stop 5.56 or 7.62 (anything bigger and bye bye head). This one has a guarantee even against those calibers but the main difference is in durability. After you’re hit the helmet will usually lose structural integrity (the brittleness of ceramics and all that) but not so much with this one. Unless it penetrates, and if that happens then… yeah, I’ll be able to use it practically forever.

I also have hall-face mask/rebreather rated for smoke and certain gasses and tinted ballistic glasses that kinda stick by suction. I confess that I spent a lot of time making impressions of Darth Vader and Bane. Forget my kill count, if somebody somehow got footage of that I would be finished.

Unless I meet some heavy hitter I’m confident in my survival chances.

As far as electronics go I’m solo operator so I can forgo communication. The helmet carries a camera on one side and two flashlights on the other. One is regular and the other is...well. Have you seen Kick-ass? In one scene Big Daddy instructs Hit-Girl to ‘switch to kryptonite’. It’s VERY bright strobe capable of blinding Superman. Seriously. I’ve tried everything I have on myself and that has the second most effective stopping power. I’ll get to the first shortly. Phone in a shatterproof case on my chest serves as a secondary recording device and rounds up the list.

Just in case I’m also carrying a small first aid kit in my backpack. Tampons, superglue and a few other bits and bobs with tourniquets in my pocket.

While owning flashbangs is legal it’s pain in the ass to get them so I’m limited on crowd control. Two cans of mild tear gas and two kinds of pepper spray is all I’m working with. I used a third can on me and the effects were… underwhelming. With Protocols, Peak Condition and mild Regeneration I can push past them no problem. I almost didn’t include them but they’re light and regular Joe Nazi might be caught off guard.

With the use of the internet and gunpowder, I’ve converted the ordinary pepper spray into three sort-of grenades to circumvent its short range but I’m keeping the second type like it is. No fucking idea how Vance got it but that shit is chemical warfare of the highest order. I doused myself with an only minuscule amount and it still put me down for half a day. It’s a large reason why I have the suction seal on my glasses, I really don’t want to fuck around with it.

To the lethal stuff.

I tried to find a balance between Punisher’s ‘if you’re too close to use a gun you’re too close’ and Bloody-Nine’s ‘you can never have enough knives’ approaches. I feel like Ka-bar on my lower back and several knives in different positions satisfy both of them.

I’m bringing the shotgun but with 5-shell capacity it’s utility is very limited. I got spare shell holder but beyond that, I’m not bothering with reload potential. The revolver I left at home.

The 1911 in right thigh holster serves as my primary weapon for now with backup Glock in a shoulder holster. If I had different 9mm gun the roles would most likely be reversed but I’m just not a big fan of Glocks. I got few attachments to both guns to cope with the lack of a rifle. The Glock has a suppressor with one mag of sub-sonic ammunition and three extra mags of normal FMJs. It’s somewhat awkward drawing it from the holster so if I have the time in a firefight (good joke) I’ll be removing the suppressor. The 1911 has a light with a laser sight and one extended 10round mag with seven extra.

Recently I bought used car for a couple of bucks and now it has stolen plates. The route to my target is the most un-camera friendly I could find and finally, the time has come for some carnage.


	15. 15

I park out of sight and proceed on foot the rest of the way. It was absolutely stroke of luck finding the building. I went through half the warehouses and storage spaces before I followed a van to an unused fire station. I couldn’t even be mad because they really chose a perfect place for them and for me. A fire station in an industrial zone is kinda useless without the industry so the Empire got building with a large vehicle bay and enough rooms for… whatever they want. For me, it meant that the layout was easily obtainable.

The only snag is that the electrical room is far from my entry point. I would love to turn off the power.

When I reach the back door Plan A gets discarded and I remove the suppressor from the Glock. I can’t get quietly through the reinforced security door so the loud option it is. I prepare the breaching kit and set off the distraction. Remotely triggered fireworks begin exploding in the nearest building and I lit a breaching pen. 20 cm long thermite stick makes short work of the lock with half the temperature of the Sun. I could have done it without the fireworks but thermite is loud, especially in this silent night, and it takes about 30s to burn through the steel, plenty of time for the occupants of the station to prepare a welcoming committee.

My surveillance gave me a rough estimate of the numbers and routine but all the windows are covered so I’m going in practically blind. At minimum 5 guys awaits me on the other side.

I chuck a pepper bomb through the opening, turn on my strobe and enter gun in hand. The brightness doesn’t diminish the blinding light that makes the one dude in the hallway cover his eyes. Two rounds to the chest mark the start of the action.

Shouts from deeper in the station alert everyone of the intruder as if the gunshots wouldn't accomplish it. I check the nearest room and take cover in the threshold as another customer comes from the far side of the corridor. He manages to duck back and only one of my three shots hits him. I stop time to review but to my disappointment, I only grazed his arm. I move to the opposite room as he blind fires. I take out one of my two tear gas canisters and wait. When he stops I return fire and throw the can deep to the hallway bent. Emptying the extended mag I move to a further set of rooms and reload a regular 8 round one. I waited a couple of seconds for the can to start smoking before I’ve thrown it so it has an immediate effect and throwing it back wouldn’t do much.

With continued suppression fire, I reach the bathroom on the end of the hallway. It would take a lot but I am glancing back every so often in case that one of them had a clever idea. I switch to Glock and few shots around the corner later, I advance. One guy is on the floor coughing in a growing pool of blood. Imagine that. I finish him off but deeper in the building two enemies recover quickly and one of their bullets impacts my chest plate.

With the wind taken from me, I dive in the janitor closet. I don’t bother checking, handgun caliber doesn't have a chance to penetrate, so after a few seconds of catching my breath second pepper bomb is expended and I move on.

One easy target in the open and I find myself in the lobby. I can hear the second one wheezing in the room in the middle of the building but before I can get to him I have to deal with a knife-wielding asshole charging at me.

I don’t have the opportunity to shoot him so he slams into me and we go tumbling to the ground. My gun flies out of my hand and we’re wrestling for the knife while rolling around. I hear shouting to get clear from, I’m guessing, the sixth guy so I decide on a risky strategy. With my assailant on top, I let him sink the blade into my biceps and use my free arm to draw the 1911. I fight through the pain and shoot him twice in the stomach. Then I reach around and shoot the shouting one.

Both get an extra headshot when I get up and the remaining rounds go to the last guy still coughing from the pepper spray.

Blessed silence fills the air and I check my injury. Only after applying a tourniquet to the arm I remove the knife and it looks like I will live. Further treatment has to wait for completely securing the building. 3min to confirm no additional threats and I’m stuffing sterilized tampons in the wound and bandaging it.

Turns out I’m very lucky, there’s enough weaponry in the vehicle bay for the foreseeable future and it doesn’t take long to fill three large travel bags. I also smash every computer I can find and take all the hard drives and every piece of paper with writing on it.

I’m ready to leave, 21 min after I gained entry when I hear an approaching car. No sirens so one of the dead guys probably called for reinforcements. A single car so at max another five dudes. I already have the bags near the door I came in so I decide on observing who arrived, I can perform an easy fighting retreat.

The garage doors roll up and incomes two men and a car with two more. I turned off the strobe so I can stealthily line up a shot when the passenger door open to reveal a uniformed man in a gas mask.

Oh.

Well, that’s nice. Normal grunts I would have just smoked and be on my way, Stormtiger or similar I wouldn't bother with and Hookwolf I would quietly run but Krieg is, after Coil, my primary target and I can’t waste opportunity such as this.

I send the first round his way and split the rest between the closer duo. Both go down but Krieg must be on his guard since the bullet gets sorta deflected. The bullet only dings on the wall behind him. Shit. I only have two more mags for the 1911 so I again switch to Glock. Alongside his lackey, he opens fire with… holy shit. Is… is that a Luger? I take a couple of seconds of stopped time to acknowledge the ridiculousness. He is certainly committed to his SS impersonation.

I can’t even kill the remaining dude as he’s taking cover behind his boss. Usually, it should be the other way around but I can see the reason. Pinning them down also doesn’t work as they’re steadily advancing through the fire so I need to use a somewhat unorthodox method. I throw my last pepper grenade and make a dash towards the kitchen. Lucky timing makes the grenade explode right in their faces and I gain the time to prepare a little surprise.

The Nazis are no different when it comes to relaxation and slacking off so there are plenty of bottles in the dining area filled with delicious and flammable alcohol. I don’t think they let me tear some rags and stuff them in the bottles but fortunately, I have a spare breaching pen. Should I explain what I get after combining the two items?

If this doesn’t work I’m fucked. I stick the pen in the bottle, light it and throw the thing at the coming pair. Shooting the bottle in flight when it’s near them rewards me by a large fireball. Have fun with that you pricks.

They’re so close at that point that I’m blinded for a second but just in case I shoot several times in their general direction. Their cries of pain are sweet music to my ears but my cunning plan only works halfway. I didn’t account for Krieg to blitz through the flames and knocking me down while being partially on fire. Again, shit.

His power allows him to smother the flames while I can’t do anything. It’s like moving through quicksand. And breathing quicksand. I try to reach my gun only for the grunt to kick it away. Well… this is a fine mess. Hey Armsdick, I know we’re not close or anything but if you have some gizmo for receiving telepathic messages I would really appreciate some help.

“Sir, should I call Kaiser?”

“No… No yet Julian.” With me facing the floor I can only see black boots pacing around me.

“First I want to have a moment with our friend here in private.”

Kicking somebody wearing a bulletproof vest and steel plates won’t do much. Unless you can supercharge your kicks so the victim lifts and goes flying.

“On second thought,... there is something you can do. Your phone has a camera right?”

“Uh, yes sir, I just bought a new one.”

“Excellent, make sure to fully capture our… conversation.”

A moment of peace while Julian sets up the camera and we go back to our regular programming folks.

“Who do you think you are?”

*kick*

“Attack the Empire?”

*kick*

“Try to kill me?”

*kick*

“MEEE!!?”

*stomp*

He grabs me and makes me kneel. “This will serve as a nice lesson for all the other stupid people.”

He leans in so I can see my reflection in his mask. “Tell me, what should be on your tombstone? Eh? What do you call yourself? Oh, let me guess. Is it… Idiot? FOR HOW STUPID YOU ARE!!?” He slugs me in the side and I can feel something breaking. Also, my breathing gets even harder. Punctured lung, awesome.

I didn’t actually mean it when I said to Vance that I don’t care if I get killed on my first outing.

After all.

I look up to Krieg's face.

There's plenty of people that need to die first.

Starting with this fucker.

I reach for my ka-bar and Krieg starts laughing. “Still some fight in you? Good. I don’t want to call you Dead this soon.”

Bunch of dwarves with mining equipment set up shop in my head and, based on their expressions, only visible to me wave emanates from my body.

Krieg is still laughing when my knife slides into his stomach with no resistance.

I stand up and hug him. “No.”

I hook his leg and we both go down. “You’re wrong.”

I straddle him. “I’m not stupid.”

I jerk the knife and it opens him up from bellybutton to ribcage. “I’m not dead.”

I rip the mask off his head and start punching him.

*smash*

“I’m a reminder.”

*smash*

“That you’re not above the rest of us.”

*smash*

“That there are still people who give a shit.”

*smash*

“That there are consequences.”

*smash**smash**smash*

He’s long dead before his skull cracks and I’m caked in blood and brain matter. I stop only when all my fingers are broken and I’m beating chunks of what used to be head into the concrete. When I get up I’m surprised to not see a floating green ring because I’m running on willpower alone. More like willpower fumes at this point. Another surprise is seeing Julian still filming me with a face full of fear and shock. I did wonder what happened to him.

“Run.”

And he fucking does. I swear he’s gone between my blinks. Killing him doesn’t even cross my mind, I couldn’t kill a wet noodle the state I’m in. My previous statement about pain be damned, I don’t think I can get home without some narcotics. I load up a script blocking all pain receptors.

Another shift of dwarves arrive and I fall to my knees, only just removing my half-mask to vomit. My last thought is fear about my head exploding as darkness claims me.


	16. 16

Uhhhh… what did I drink last night? And, more importantly, where the fuck am I? I look around and… this is not my apartment. Unless few dozen hobos had their way with it. Let’s just say the room needs a new coat of paint and leave it there.

The room is not the only thing in a dire need of reconstruction. Every part of my body hurts but my head and hands take the spotlight. I don’t know the reason for a massive migraine that threatens to split my head but I’m pretty sure fingers are not supposed to bend that way. Don’t I have superpowers for this kind of thing? Shouldn’t I remember literally everything?

Ah, screw it. It can wait until I get home. I find the car keys and load up. I don’t even bother looking in the two large bags. They could have chopped up bodies in them for all I care. That effort is slowed somewhat by my condition. This is the one time when I’m glad for an automatic transmission. In the car, I try to piece together what happened. It’s 6 AM and the last thing I remember is gearing up to kill Nazis but that probably happened already based on my health and having more stuff than before. I did turn on the recording so I should have some clues to review after a shower but the main thing is that I’m still alive. And I’m guessing a few other people aren’t.

I don’t want to interrupt my healing so I only slightly dull the pain and slowly peel off my clothes when I arrive home and stand in front of a mirror. Damn. I look like I went twelve rounds with Rocky Balboa, purple bruising everywhere. In as hot water as I can stand I debate on whether I should heal first or go through the stuff I brought and the fact that I’m not in police custody or dead in a ditch several hours after all the excitement convince me on the former.

My injuries must have been more severe than I thought as I wake up a full day later and barely manage to sprint to the bathroom. After tending to my bodily needs I go through the bags. The first has my original gear, battered and missing some items, but the second has all new equipment alongside loads of papers and some computer parts. Miraculously both the helmet camera and the chest phone survived so I transfer the videos and watch them on my secure (air-gapped - never connected to any network) laptop.

Well. I did, indeed had some fun. Nine more notches, one of which is pretty important, and my memories are finally returning. Some bad and some good luck in that engagement but honestly I’m satisfied with how it went. Except for the ending. And what happened after. So it looks like I do have a way of dealing with stronger parahumans but it came with massive side effects. Unless I’m horribly mistaken it’s Power Fluctuation but it’s… should it work like that? The other possibility is Adaptation but that doesn’t fit. So my dream of punching Alexandria in the tit might become reality. Hurray! Except not at all ‘cause the PF also disabled my powers and gave me world class hangover. Or… now that I know how I concentrate and release another wave. And the dwarves return with vengeance. Yep, not using that in the middle of a fight.

5 minutes for my powers to reboot and I’m cursing at the fucker above. What’s the fucking point of a counter-power if it also counters me? Maybe I shouldn’t complain as it saved my life but yet again the cheapest power proves it’s the most useful. I’m embarrassed to say how long it took but I created a script in case something went wrong and it worked like a charm. 5 min of nothing after I blacked out but then it kicked in. The footage shows me getting up, doing some stuff and returning to base. All while unconscious. Not perfect of course, I only took single loot-bag of three and I didn’t torch the place as I’ve planned. I don’t know if my first supply mission was investigated but this time I’ve left plenty of evidence behind. Fortunately, now I can go against tougher opponents.

I really lucked out with the weaponry. The only long gun I brought back is HK 416, pretty much the best rifle I could come across. Thank God for Nazis ‘cause they apparently have a good taste in firearms and that particular shipment had a very high-quality selection. Many tears were shed as I had to leave behind some of my favorites. The 416 is a perfect example of the stereotype German engineering. The only problem is a result of not wanting to have a problem as the rifle is viciously over-gassed (something Germans something gas) so the recoil is stronger than AR-15, the upside is that when you pull the trigger it WILL fire and (more importantly) the gun WILL cycle a new round. I also got a sample of my homeland in the form of Scorpion EVO and CZ 75 SP-01. The EVO is 9mm sub-machine gun (or machine pistol or carbine or pistol, seriously the gun designations are fucking confusing) in the vein of MP-5 and the 75 immediately becomes my sidearm. The last item is a couple of construction demo charges. Finally, I have explosives.

And now we get to the boring part. The stack of papers and three hard-drives. I was little… overzealous in acquiring them so one is useless, the second is from PC in the dining area and full of porn and other ‘highly sensitive’ materials but, after sorting through another batch of porn, the third one reveals logs, invoices, bills, dates… enough of them so I don’t have to ‘personly interview’ another E88 member. Plus the papers and I have plenty of work ahead of me but… it will be boring as fuck so I push it back.

Maybe it’s time to initiate Phase 2 (or is it 3? What Phase am I on?) and get back-up. Playing Lone Wolf is nice and dandy but even with my powers, I can’t keep up. I need someone to watch the monitors when I’m in school, someone to play PI, someone to train me, someone… you get the point. Thankfully I’m in the right city to find qualified help.


	17. 17

“Alright, guys that’s a wrap for today. Don’t forget the quiz next week.” I finish the sentence just as the bell marks the end of the lesson. I’ve gone through the first part of the curriculum in the last month and as much as I hate tests I wanted to see how bad of a job I did. A few kids stay behind because it’s a lunch break and I keep the room open for the duration. For some of them, this is their only means of internet access. I unpack my sandwich (I tried the school kitchen once and… *shudder* never again) and start working on the test. Simple multiple-answer one cause fuck decyphering the Old Tongue that some of the hell-spawns try to disguise as handwriting.

“Holy shit.” I hear from the back row.

“Something wrong Luke?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Valenta,” I still can’t get used to people calling me mister, “there’s just… uhh, a video and it’s… kinda grisly.” His neighbors are already sliding his way enthralled by the siren's call of curiosity. “Can I turn on the sound?”

I get up and move towards him. “Have to check it so you don’t play Hip-Hop or some other horribleness.”

One of the students is looking offended. “What’s wrong with Hip-Hop?”

I loom over Luke… no wait, I’m not Snape, I’m the friendly teacher type… I stand behind Luke like a normal person. “So, what’s the video about?”

“Well,... I’ve been looking at PHO,” have to speed up the Reddit creation, “and I read a new post about Krieg dying,” uhh,... that sounds familiar, “but the video got taken down because of the rules or something. But I found it on a different site and it’s…”

“Ehm, Mr. Valenta? Shouldn't you be preventing us from seeing it? You being a teacher and all.”

I looked at Kate, who was somewhat of a good girl (in a nice way) and shrugged. “Meh.”

Six of us watched a guy in black armor got his ass handed to him by another guy in black clothes. Fortunately, the armored one managed to gain an upper hand and proceeded to mash the SS rejects head into a pancake. I wonder who that handsome and fabulous fellow is? Julian wasn’t in a position to capture Krieg unmasked face so my Plan 3a (or something) was hopefully still viable. In the other news, cat’s definitely out of the bag. While the kill wasn’t ‘moraly questionable’ (I didn’t just strangle him in his sleep) there is no doubt that this will provoke a response, and not just from the E88.

“Oh my god.” Kate has both hands over her mouth and looks little green.

“And that is why you mustn’t lose your heads, kids.” Five pairs of eyes lock onto me. “What? But seriously, free advice, mention this to your World Issues teacher, they might be interested.”

One more class and I’m heading to meet a man that might be able to aid my manpower issue. US military has been experiencing a steady decline in numbers and funding since the creation of PRT, plus interventions in other countries are practically non-existent. After all no 9/11, no Iraq, no ISIS. Al-Qaeda existed briefly but bin Laden disappeared almost 20 years ago. Nowadays the army mainly provides internal security with the national guard. Therefore plenty of grunts and even officers lost their jobs. Naturally, some of them landed in the PRT but there just wasn’t enough opportunities for people with their resumes. That’s why I’m sitting across Daniel Herbert.

“Sorry for not setting up an appointment, I hope I’m not keeping you from something?”

“No, no, at least nothing important. To be frank, I’m a little bit scared why would one of Taylor’s teachers wanted to meet with me. I hope she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh no, it’s just a coincidence that I’m teaching your daughter, she’s not the reason why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’m glad everything’s fine but, on the other hand, you’re her favorite teacher,” I’m her what!? “Sooo…”

“She told you I’m her favorite?” I… don’t know what to do with that information. “You know what? Let’s just… put that aside before you say any more mind-shattering statements. I’m hoping we can help each other. Well…, you would be helping me more but… Anyway, I’ve asked around and you’re the guy to talk to, so here’s the deal. I want someone to train with and you know just the right kind of people. Ex-military, preferably with actual combat in their history and strapped for cash.”

“Hmm… I mean you’re right, I do know few guys like that but why would you come here with this? You could go to any gun range and ask there.”

“Couple of reasons. The main one is that I’m an idiot. I’m already wasting my life teaching kids in the worst city on the planet so I thought I would double down and create job opportunities in training my ass. Unfortunately, there’s only so much I can do and I’m looking for two or three guys. Maybe I could afford four at max but I would be their only ‘client’ so they would be wasted on me.”

“Well, I don’t know about you being an idiot and don’t worry about the numbers, two guys having a job is better than they not having one. Alright, here’s what we’re going to do…”

I’m satisfied with how that went. Soon I won’t have to rely on my non-existent tactical experience and if things go right I’ll have a second opinion on my overall strategy. Speaking of strategy. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why the Empire released the video. I have two theories, both equally likely and unlikely. First is that Julian, or someone with access, did it on their own in which case they’ll end up dead and...don’t know. Or it was done on orders from up high. Then the question is, why would Kaiser want the world to see the death of his lieutenant? I watched it four times but there’s nothing that could be used to gain my identity and the kill, while gruesome, is not inexcusable. If you showed me just the video without context I would argue self-defense.

In other news, I’m deciding on my next target. I’m split between using the data I gathered to cause more damage or switch to ABB. I wouldn’t want them to feel left out.


	18. 18

“Going right.”

“Going left.”

We push into the room and sweep it.

“Clear, call it.”

“Zero, the building is clear, only one room remains, over.”

“Copy that Bravo Two, intel suggest two tangos inside with the hostage, go in and watch your fire. Zero out.”

We stack up on the door and Damien takes out a can. “Open it on three.”

“One, two, three, GO!” I jerk the handle and Damien throws the can into the room. “Boom! GO! GO! GO!”

We rush in and eliminate the opposition. “Ratatata!” “Phew, phew, phew!”

“Zero, mission accomplished, we’re RTB.” I grab the teddy bear, “Are you OK Cuddles? Did the mean cardboard cutouts hurt you? Taylor is very worried but don’t you fret, we’re have you reunited in no time.”

Danny came through and the day after our meeting I was having beers with Damien Scott and Micheal Stonebridge, before being honorably discharged both sergeants in Marine Force Recon, and today, a week later, is our first training exercise. Being the first we have unloaded weapons and instead of flashbangs, we’re using empty cans. Micheal is monitoring us on comms and through our cameras alongside two spectators. Danny, who was interested, and Taylor, who… actually, I don’t know how she came up to be here but thanks to her we have a good actor for the hostage part.

“Good job dude, you’re really good at rescuing stuffed animals”

“Oh, like you’re not enjoying every second of this as well.”

“HA! This is the best fun I’ve had in ages, even Mikey dropped his usual monk attitude.”

“Shut up Bravo one and don’t think I haven’t heard the countdown.”

“Oh fuck, that shit again? We’ve had the same argument for the last ten fucking years just…., just drop it, dude.”

“What argument?”

“It’s about..., no I’m not telling you. If you hang with us more maybe you’ll figure it out but it’s such stupid thing I’m…, no, just no.”

In previous days we’ve done firearm handling some basic drills and hand-to-hand to gauge my ‘trainability’ and both guys agreed they could skip the basics. It was kinda funny, them deciding to gang up on me and finding I was a match for both of them at the same time in close combat. Only for a short while of course, I didn’t want to tip my hand this soon but even without my powers, I could go toe to toe.

After clean-up, we return to the others and I hand over our VIP. “There you go, I can proudly say that we foiled the maniacal plan of the cardboard nation and your fuzzy friend is safe.”

It’s hard for me to connect her future badass self with the smiling girl in front of me. “He’ll be safe if I don’t let him near your ‘training’ Mr. Valenta.”

“Whoa watch the ‘Mr.’ word,” I point at my armor “can’t you see I’m civilian? Unless we’re in a classroom I’m Dan. Calling me Mr., such disrespect.”

We do a couple more drills with the three of us rotating the roles and it’s clear I’ve struck gold. I’ve just got to be careful. Mike and Damien are not stupid and it could be dangerous for them to connect the latest vigilante using military hardware and tactics to the guy they’re teaching the same. Not to say they would rat me out, I just don’t want to put them in that position.

Speaking of, the media, following the PRT statement, is calling me Reminder which…, I didn’t mean to use it as a name it just slipped out. There was a lot of grumbling about my violent nature and going straight for the kill but the public was (very) slightly in my favor. The statement with more details came after the video and while the PR machine did their job, painting me as a psychopathic killer, it was a little late. Online there were some speculations about my affiliation with Coil but that got dismissed pretty fast.

The reason behind the leak was revealed as Kaiser used the video as propaganda and call to arms. The former… well, he already has on his side all the people sympathetic to the ‘cause’ so I feel like it’s redundant but the latter might create problems. Already his people clashed with the ABB and they certainly won’t stop there. I decided to continue with them but I run into a little snag. Trimming down their parahuman forces is nice but potentially bad for my health so I’ve shifted my focus to mess with their money. Except that is proving to be harder than I thought. Unlike the Merchants and the ABB and pretty much every other gang their main source of income is a legitimate one in the form of Medhall, the biggest company in the city. Alright, I’m only guessing that but it’s not that big of a leap with Kaiser being the CEO.

It was painstakingly boring but I managed to piece together my next target, shipment of drugs coming from Boston. Of course, there’s a chance it’s not happening however it was on-route before my assault and it’s a large quantity so I don’t think they’ll dump it. Unfortunately, I don’t know where it’s headed, so my two options are hit it while in transit or go to the source. And I’m not confident in attacking the convoy (well, two trucks) on the road, for that I would need more people. So a road trip it is.


	19. 19

I need to download some audiobooks or something if I decide to take more trips ‘cause fuck me this is boring. Almost three hours on the road as I’m closing on my target and I’m eagerly looking forward to the other three on my drive back. In my previous life, I mainly used trains but even if the US had better public transportation I rather not board the thing with twenty kilos of weaponry.

Speaking of, I made a few changes to my set-up. The main thing is obviously my rifle which I haven’t even begun customizing, iron sights and everything. The only thing I’ve done is fiddle with the gas system since I’m not in the middle of a desert and the decrease of kickback comes with a very light cost. I also ditched my helmet in favor of full-face ballistic mask. Sure, I’m in danger of being shot in the back of my head as I’m running aw- *ahem* making a tactical retreat and there are no mount points and the viewpoint is shit and the peripheral vision is nonexistent and… wait, why did I waste money on it? Well, it’s not all bad. It’s pretty much the only thing that provides armor to the front of my face and I want to explore my options. In the future, I’ll cut away some pieces and combine it with my helmet (it doesn’t fit otherwise) but for now, I’ve glued tinted glasses on it and padded the inside.

All in all, for this excursion I’ll be carrying only the necessary minimum, which might seem weird since the opposition will be harder and more numerous than in my previous raid. I do have a different objective, however. Instead of killing everyone and looting their shit I only want to go in, cause a big ruckus and skedaddle before the white hats arrive. The three explosive charges I have will be the main ingredient. Unfortunately, the Nazis didn’t provide me with triggers so I had to improvise. Unlike what the movies and games tell you, you can’t set off plastic explosives (C-4 in my case) without a proper trigger mechanism, shooting it will only create a bullet hole instead of a crater and not even fire will help, so I build one. I’m about… 80% sure it will work otherwise I’ll be embarrassed and my MacGyver cred will be diminished.

I’ve also found my (hopefully) permanent means of transportation. Old-ish Ford van which I’ve begun to modify. The plan is to make it at least somewhat bulletproof alongside other improvements but… that is a long term project that might require some help. Looking up manuals and cobbling together timer is one thing, rebuilding a large vehicle is quite another. I’ll have to ask Vance if he has any experience as a car mechanic.

One thing I’m extremely pleased about came once again from my cheapest power. I’ve created a HUD. Well,... not really but that sounds better than ‘bullet counting and equipment monitoring system’. My other powers do the heavy lifting but Protocols makes it work. How it works is that I have a dedicated line of consciousness that… count bullets. Alright, I admit it doesn’t sound impressive but wait there’s more! Another line is keeping stock (nothing right now) and another is tracking other combatants. The last one can work as a poor man x-ray vision. If somebody enters cover I can sorta impose a shape of where they might be. I mean everybody can do that it’s just I can do it with no limits, there could be hundred bad guys and I’ll never forget where they are. I can’t actually rely on it as it’s just guesswork once they're out of sight and not even good type of guesswork. The first two programs are much more consistent. Full-auto sometimes causes hiccups but I’m not a gangsta with an Uzi in a drive-by, short bursts are the max rate of fire.

In other news, my ‘Plan: I didn’t bother to name it’ is scrapped as the funeral of one James Fliescher happened and I couldn't be in attendance. I didn’t even have a chance to set-up cameras so his loved ones cried over the closed casket and I didn’t get to see who turned up and what do they looked like. Oh sure, I can Google Krieg's boss but I highly doubt Hookwolfs yearbook picture (he was one awkward looking kid) is any indication of what he looks like now. My day job really hampers my capacity to effectively stalk and kill people.


	20. 20

When I started my…, I’m not pretentious to call it a mission, hobby I promised myself not to follow in every vigilante footsteps and yet. No intel on what’s waiting for me on the other side, no floor plan so I won’t get lost, no backup if things get dicey, no preparations beyond looking at Google Maps and I’m still here cutting my way through a chain fence with bolt cutters. Still, surprise negates a lot of disadvantages and while my plan is barebones it has solid foundations with room for improvisation.

Right now I’m looking at the main entrance to the target building from across the street while I’m making sure the hole in the fence is big enough. My eventual retreat is the one part I’m not completely confident, hopefully, by that time everyone will be busy being dead to give chase but on the off-chance, I’d hate to have my memorial read that I died having been caught and stuck on a wire. What I wouldn’t give for an extra gun or two to give cover and stagger retreat but us lone wolves have to make do.

It definitely says something about me that I feel more guilty by damaging property of some construction company than by killing people but my conscience is eased by the bundle of literally the same type of netting I’m destroying lying only a few meters away. My van is on the other side of the compound with keys in the ignition for a quick getaway and I had a thought about it being stolen. If that ridiculous scenario does happen in the next ten or so minutes I’d be… honestly, I’d be impressed ‘cause that would be some funny shit.

I cross the street and Sam Fisher my way to a small loading bay, well the whole time I was illuminated by floodlights and I passed right under two sets of cameras but even if there is dude glued to a screen monitoring my approach it doesn’t matter. The company owning this building runs it 24/7 so I do know someone will be inside, unfortunately, it also means there is a good chance that some of those people might be just normal workers. As far as I found out the company is legitimate and the only thing tying it together with criminal activities is the info I got from Nazis so… Charging through a door only to find a bunch of underpaid normies would be embarrassing but I’d rather avoid shooting some poor bastard so I can’t go in guns blazing. That being said, one aggressive move or barrel pointed in my direction and they'll go down.

The loading bay has two closed shutters and a door through which I can hear machinery on the other side. I don’t bother checking if it’s locked and prepare my entry tools, four small shaped charges linked together. Just a smidgen of explosives sufficient to persuade the door without causing too much damage, even if somebody is bracing the door from the other side it won’t kill them (it wouldn’t be pleasant though).

Just as I hit the button I think to myself that I should have brought the EVO, relatively speaking the 416 is on the short side but it’s still a rifle better suited for the open than CQC. Kinda late for that as the door (luckily opening inward), suddenly missing its hinges, separates from the wall and falls on the ground. I enter a room with three conveyor belts and three very confused employes.

“This is BPD! Don’t move and put your hands above your heads!” And the clock starts now. The nearest police station is under two klicks away and 90% of that is a straight line when the call comes it will take about five minutes before they arrive. Luckily due to wonders of technology, I know precisely when that’ll be. In my left ear is an earbud leading to a police scanner. PRT and the Protectorate are basically private security with governmental oversight and as such, they operate under different sets of rules than official law enforcement. In this case, their communication is private with heavy encryption and you’ll have to fend off Dragon attack if you manage to hack it, meanwhile, you can freely listen in on the police dispatch if you shell out couple hundred bucks.

“Stay where you are and-” Do you know the most unrealistic part of Assassins Creed series? It’s not the genetic memory thingie nor the ancient conspiracies, it’s not even the magical hay. It’s that no assassin worth a damn would willingly wear something that obscures 30% of their vision. I know the masks faults so I positioned myself as best as I could but the workers are on the opposite of where I want to look and that leads to only a brief warning when an asshole with a shotgun appears around a corner and shoots me in the right side. I was wrong, it does matter that somebody was glued to a screen. Well, at least I know I’m in the right place.

My armor reacher further down than ordinary plate carrier and I have side panels so most of the shot is mitigated and only the kinetic force, which is significant but not crippling, goes through but the stinging sensation in my hip tells me it was buckshot instead of a slug. Amateur surgery awaits me when I get home. I turn with the hit to face my attacker and let off two rounds in the wall he ducked behind to reload. I continue suppressive fire as I advance and switch to my sidearm when I reach the opening. Must have thought I run out of ammo ‘cause he took that one second as an opportunity to return fire but, based on the sudden widening of his eyes, he didn’t expect to find himself face to awesome-creepy-mask with me. I grab the shotgun barrel with my free hand to yank it up and jab my pistol in his stomach. We both pull the triggers at the same time with wildly different results. He drops the weapon and goes down on his knees with two holes in the gut. Third shot to the back of his head and I look back on the cowering workers.

“Run.” If they don’t have time to think people will go along but even the slowest individual would realize by now I’m not actually a member of the police. Plus, I suspect they have nothing to do with the illicit dealings going on in here.

Now comes the hard part. I’m currently in the divide between two of three parts of the building, I entered in the sorting area and my late friend came from the garage. Both of those consists of single open space so, with the workers departing, I can see they’re clear. I can also see there’s nothing that particularly interests me. That I’ll hopefully find in the third part, two-story structure larger than the other two parts combined. It’s connected to the garage via a large double door on an elevated walkway for easier truck unloading.

I take a position, push one wing of the door open and am greeted by a hail of bullets. A quick look, as the gunfire lesses, reveals two customers with handguns to far away to successfully mount a charge. Hmm, don’t have the time to flank and I don’t want to rely on suppressive fire alone. I switch magazines in my rifle and chuck the half-spent one down the corridor.

“Grenade!!” I yell and, on its first bounce, spring from cover. Ha, it actually worked, one doesn’t get a chance to get up but the other is faster and dives deeper into the room she’s defending. Interesting, it’s a lady gangster, that’s the first one I’ve seen. Although my sample size is rather limited and, let’s be honest, Nazis are not generally known for their gender equality. I hear a thump and, after peaking in, see that she tipped a table over and is now hiding behind. It wouldn’t be a problem but my quota on getting shot is full for today and I don’t want to take chances. Luckily, while the outside walls are solid brick the insides are made from a thinner material. I backtrack a few steps and flip the selector on full-auto. I’m rewarded for the ten round burst by groaning and gargling sounds from inside. I carefully enter the room and see that miss gangster has, among other places, been hit in the throat and is now quickly bleeding out. The human body is an amazingly resilient thing but even if she got teleported to the hospital right now she wouldn’t make it. Again, one headshot to finish her and I look around.

Unless the company received pre-orders for a baking sale the bags of white powder and a pile of money is a good indication that I haven’t killed three people for nothing. Well, there could- oh, the call just went out probably from the workers I let go. It’s likely there are no active combatants in the building but I still keep my gun on hand as I take my bag off and prepare the explosives. The timer set for four minutes, one charge in this room and two for the other which has the same stuff. All that’s left is my favorite part of this whole thing. Run like fuck.

The explosion goes off when I start the car and in the distance, I can hear police sirens closing in. I admit that it wasn’t necessary to blow up the building and I just used all of my supply but in my mind, that’s the health potion fallacy, you save them thinking they’d better used later and in the end, you have thousands of those fuckers. Plus it’s not like the whole place got leveled, I haven’t seen the results but I doubt little more than the rooms got destroyed.

Three minutes driving away from the sirens and I’m on the interstate heading out of the city, I couldn’t have asked for a better escape route.


	21. 21

It’s been three months since I got dropped here with no apparent way back and I feel like I’ve acclimated rather well in that short time. My day job is fulfilling in a strange way and, based on how I’m not dead or captured, my night job goes as well as it could. I made friends/allies in both aspects of my life and the same can be said about enemies. Funnily enough, I got more problems from that group in the safe environment of middle school than the rough streets of Brockton Bay. The Empires efforts to see me dead are somewhere between ineffectual and flattering, the bounty on my head is high enough to cause stirrings in the nether regions of the local dirtbag population but not enough to attract out of town attention. And since they have no way to track me, it doesn’t matter. On the downside, the search combined with the recent increase in activity means... collateral damage. I’ll be sure to voice my complaints in my next “conversation” with the upstanding members of the white power community.

As much as I would like I can’t solve my school problems in the same fashion. Almost every day I imagine jamming a gun in Blackwell's ass but alas, that brief moment of satisfaction would be followed by ganging up on me, handcuffs and intense session of drilling in a small room with people watching from behind the glass. And not in a fun way either. So I have to endure a few idiotic colleagues that want to relieve their glory days, a corrupt principal and the rest who gave up a long time ago. Fun times.

The training with the dynamic duo, they hate to be called that so I’ll continue to do so at every opportunity, goes smoothly and, with Danny’s permission, Taylor joined us a few times. Everyone involved agreed that it wouldn’t hurt for her to learn some self-defense but Danny was… slightly concerned about what I and both of the guys consider worthy of teaching. Let’s just say if the unfortunate does happen and Taylor finds herself in a situation where backing-out is not possible… well, broken fingers and aching balls are the starting point. That is not to say she’s ready in any shape or form. Physically, a strong wind could push her over and it’ll be years if ever she’ll be able to compete with even average-sized attacker. The skill side is better, she doesn’t have any experience (read bad habits) and she approaches the training with the same passion as her usual lessons.

Speaking of physical attributes, I see Sophia “dumb enough to have SS as her cape initials” Hess every day and it’s… funny. Original, every fanfic ever, PHO and her recent Ward introduction paints her as an absolute badass capable of going toe to toe with Lung and she’s… not. In costume, she has the advantages of gear, surprise (that’s the main thing), power and (some) training so she can take down people above her weight class but in civies? She’s a 14-year-old girl with an anger problem, I would compare her to chihuahua but, at least, she has enough sense to only bother kids “below” her, those that won’t fight back.

As helpful as Mike and Damien are, they also supplied me with a new obstacle to overcome. Constantly I find myself in a situation of not having enough time. And that’s with not needing to waste 8 hours on sleep. Jesus, how do normal people accomplish anything? I’m not bothered about most of the stuff I had to put on the back burner except for one. I hit a hard wall with Coil. With my current equipment/support/time limits there’s literally nothing I can do about him. Following him- I gave up on that a week ago, no time and there’s a possibility of getting caught, cameras- I have to know where to put them, bugs- awesome for anyone else, for paranoid fucker like him I’m not risking it. And his people operate similarly to me so there’s no chance of repeating my Empire process.

I’m down to the nuclear option. Until now, my main reasons for not doing it were that I wanted him for myself and doing it would give me access to better gear. I’m not greedy however so I’m willing to give others a chance. I don’t have any proof but if I alert the PRT about the connection (as in they’re the same person) between a villain they have no information on, and one of their consultants (one with security clearance) something will happen. Depending on my wording there is… well, let’s be optimistic and say a decent chance that director Piggot will take it seriously given their history. Then give the same to anyone interested and sit back to watch the show. Just the power info might do the trick. There is one issue with that route. Right now he’s doing his normal Coily things, my activities might have helped or disrupted his master plan but ultimately it’s business as usual. Blowing the whistle would have a side effect of alerting him that someone is after him. I’ll give it another few days or weeks and I’ll proceed with it for lack of a better plan.

In other news, a funny thing happened to everyone's favorite group of psychology enthusiasts. A large operation consisting of many parahumans and PRT personal managed to defeat and scatter the S9 as they were leaving the site of their latest massacre. That alone doesn’t mean much, it happened plenty of times before, what drew me was the “reported” deaths of Bonesaw, Siberian and Jack Slash alongside two other members that nobody cares about. I put reported in quotes ‘cause I don’t believe it for a one second. Jack and the two I’m fine with, pretty simple reasons for doing it now and without the need for a catalyst he was a good target. Riley and the good doctor, however… unless I see otherwise (no bodies) I assume they’re chilling in Cauldron custody. Riley is just too useful to have (and too dangerous to let run around without supervision) and Manton… far being from me to advise our highly competent shadow leaders but I would brainwash the shit out of him and keep him as a failsafe against hard-to-kill threats.

You know, things might be looking up.


	22. 22

“Do you mind waiting for a bit? I forgot some files on my desk.”

“Sure, that’s no problem.”

“Thank you, I promise it won’t be long.”

When the governmental overlords call, god help you if you’re not 20min early but somehow the meeting will always start 20min late. If there is one thing that any governmental agency on any world does well it’s wasting everyone's time. I’m in a conference room of PRT headquarters for my first debriefing and it’s nice to see my taxes at work. Of course, they don’t have so much funding they can afford offices for all their employees as the agent whom I’m meeting with went to her cubicle. It’s… slightly concerning to be in the belly of the beast but alas, it can’t be helped. It’s not like I have anything to worry about but just being here is a risk. If they found something in my background check I would be “invited” here a month ago and if they haven’t done one than… they’re even bigger idiots than I thought and I’ll be fine. The third option is that they’re lulling me into a false sense of security and any moment twenty troopers will burst into the room. I’m disregarding that one. Say one thing about me, say I’m an optimist.

However, if I don’t end up in a cell this might be worth it. I don’t expect a tour but everything I see could be potentially valuable information. Basic layout, which is not publicly available, numbers, first-hand look at the gear the troopers are using, faces and more. Yeah,... I’m really reaching here. Maybe I’ll swing by the store on my way out? There's a distinct lack of baseball caps in my closet.

My musings are interrupted by a door opening and, instead of a barrel of a rifle, I’m greeted by the same agent that left me a short while ago. She introduced herself as Haylee Beck, Shadow Stalker's handler. When I got the call I looked up who I’ll be meeting with. Every Ward has a handler, the bridge between them and the PRT, in an ideal world the handlers would do everything from assisting with paperwork to counseling. Only a limited amount of the second of course, a dedicated psychologist would do the majority. Haylee is about my age, maybe a few years older and,... I’m gonna be judgemental as fuck but she doesn’t look like she should be in charge of violent Ward on probation.

“I apologize once again, dealing with a Ward in a new school is… argh, everybody involved is swamped, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Oh yeah, I only have her for one class a week and she’s the cause of like, a quarter of my paperwork. It’s getting harder to not blame her for that.” Especially since she can be blamed for so many other things.

She smiles and opens a folder, “Alright so, I’ve done this few times already and it shouldn’t take more than half an hour. As you said, you only have minimal contact with Sophia but anything you can give me on how she fares in class, how she interacts with other students, etcetera.”

“I’m sorry, did you just said etcetera out loud?”

She looks up, “yes I did.”

“I don’t think I ever heard it in a conversation. Alright, as far as class goes, well she’s not the best student I have but she does the job and she’s rarely disruptive, honestly, she’s nothing different from the other hundred kids.”

Haylee makes a few notes and continues, “And what about homework? That’s always a heavy topic with the Wards.”

“I wouldn’t know, I don’t give out a lot and all of it is for volunteers, I… don’t think she ever participated but I don’t remember.” I do and she didn’t.

Another set of notes, “Can you tell if she has friends or how she gets along with people?”

“Friends,... there are a couple of girls that she hangs with but beyond that… I got nothing. However, there is… her attitude for… well, everyone else.”

“Other teachers said,” Haylee sifts through the files, “that there is some friction between Sophia and gang-affiliated students. Unfortunately, that is to be expected…”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean that. There are, maybe, three types of “gang-affiliated students”. The first, usually on the younger side, are idiots that want to look tough and, as you said, unfortunately picking on minorities is this city tradition, in need of a good spanking but ultimately harmless. The second genuinely believe the bullshit they’re spewing but at least have enough sense to keep it hidden. The third is actual Empire members who should’ve been thrown out a long time ago but I don’t make the policies. I’ve never seen Sophia deal with the third ‘cause she’s scared, she should be I’m fine with that, and there are easier targets.”

Haylee looks confused and little taken aback, “Targets? Can you elaborate?”

“In the simplest terms, Sophia is a bitch. Unlike the racists she doesn’t care about color or sexual preference or whatever, she goes after kids who don’t fight back or who nobody will take seriously if they report it. She’s a classic bully. Somebody needs to sit her ass down and explain that it’s not okay. Believe me, I’ve tried but all I accomplished is that she doesn’t do it in front of me.”

Apparently, none of the other guys deemed it important to mention or Haylee is very good at poker. Either they don’t care, they’re under strict orders or, most likely, both. I don’t want to sound like I’m the only teacher with human decency (funny coming from me), at the start, Sophia got in trouble with more than me and… it seemed to work but after her Ward induction, we all got pulled over and given a speech. I don’t see what Blackwell can actually do so I completely ignore her.

We talk a bit more and at the end of the meeting, Haylee assures me that it will be looked at and… I kinda believe her, she doesn’t seem like a bad person. Just probably overworked and horribly underqualified. If something will be done, good if not… my faith in humanity isn’t too strong anyway.

Speaking of, yesterday Kaiser decided to step on the gas and remind this city how large of a douche he is. Leading the charge with Hookwolf and the wunder twins in tow he attacked a store owned by a black couple. Supposedly over an insult to the good hard-working white Americans, four people were executed. Another eight were killed when the heroes intercepted their escape and full-sized Fenja was knocked into a building. I’m not even counting the injured. All the parahumans managed to get away leaving about a dozen unpowered Empire members in custody. It’s possible they didn’t understand it the first time so I feel the need to remind them of my earlier message. To help me get it sufficiently across I gave in to my dramatic nature. I didn’t want to do it mainly for two reasons, I think it’s corny and my artistic skills leave something to be desired but...yeah...

It’s time to break out the white spray can.


End file.
